LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Shelf 2.Ri^ 31 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Our Young People. 



/^ BY 

R. H. RIVERS, D.D., 

AiUhor of '^Mental Philosophy^' and ^^ Moral Philosophy J' 



EDITED BY 

T. O. SUMMEKS, D.D., LL.D. 



#^ 



i8o2 » 



Nashvilxe, Tennessei 

Southern Methodist Publishing House. 

1882. 

nr 



^'^4' 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882, 

By the Book Agent or the Publishing House 
OF the M. E. Church, South, 

in the OfiBce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



/2-3 TSl^ 



Prefatory Note. 



WE have edited several works for Dr. EiverSj but 
no one which has given lis more satisfaction than 
this. We agree with a competent judge, who has read it, 
that no better book for young people has been issued by 
our House. The style is charming, the spirit magnetic, 
the matter all good to the use of edifying. It is a book 
which the young will read — ought to read — and will be 
greatly pleased and profited by reading. 

From the large resources of his well-stored memory the 
accomplished and diligent author might draw material for 
another work of the same sort, which we should be glad to 
present to the public, as we present this beautiful volume. 

The Editor. 
Publishing House of the M. E. Church, South, "> 
Nashville, Tenn., March 8, 1882. J 



Contents. 



The Model Boy -. 7 

A Wonderful Instrument 12 

Elements of Success 28 

Habit 50 

Conscience 67 

The Model Girl 77 

Influence 88 

Dead Flies 96 

Examples op Warning and Encouragement. . . 104 

Human Destiny Ill 

Causes of Failure 125 

The Imagination 131 

Nothing but Leaves 140 

The Battle of Life 149 

Joseph 157 

The Beautiful Queen 165 

Temptations, and How to Conquer Them 176 

Daniel 190 

Drag-net 198 



6 Contents. 

No EooM POR Jesus 204 

Eeligion eoe- the Young 212 

The Bible 219 

Decision of Character 225 

Eedemption Made Plain 231 

The Prodigal Son 244 




Our Young People. 



THE MODEL BOY. 



FIEST. A model boy honors his parents. He 
does what they tell him to do. He will not 
do any thing which they tell him must not be done. 
He loves to obey, and delights in giving up his 
wishes to the wishes of his parents. It is no cross 
for him to do this. He feels that his parents are 
wiser than he is. He knows that they have the 
right to rule him. He believes that they seek his 
happiness in all things. He therefore loves them, 
and would not disobey them for the world. His 
obedience is cheerful. He does not frown. He 
does not pout, or look sullen. He never grumbles, 
never complains. His eye is bright. His face 
speaks volumes of love and joy. He is never im- 
pudent. He never tells his mamma, "I w^on't.'' 
He is glad to go on errands, or do any thing that 
will make his good mother happy, and that will 

give pleasure to his father. 

(7) 



8 Our Young People. 

Second. He loves his brothers and sisters. He * 
does not quarrel with them, or give them hard 
names. He is no tattler. He tells no tales^ He 
makes no fuss in the family. If he has brothers 
or sisters older than he is, he treats them with the 
greatest respect, and, in the absence of his parents, 
minds them. Even if they are a little severe and 
harsh, he would rather submit to injustice and 
wrong than make trouble in the house. 

Third. He is polite. He is not forward. He is 
not rude. He does not behave in such a manner 
as to make his parents blush. He does not stop 
his mother, when she is telling something, and say, 
''No, ma; it is not that way." I knew a child 
once that constantly did this. His mother always 
dreaded for Thomas to be near when she was talk- 
ing. He was almost sure to contradict her, and 
w^ould often tell the tale in a different manner, and 
declare his way was right. This was very ugly. 
No one liked Thomas on this account. Every one 
called him a rude, impolite boy. When the Apos- 
tle Paul wrote his famous description of Charity, 
he said. Charity never behaves itself unseemly. 
I would say the very same thing of the model boy 
or girl. He does not come blustering into company. 
He is not baisterous at the table. He does not eat 



The Model Boy. 9 

like a glutton. He never interrupts the conver- 
sation of older persons. He speaks politely to 
alL He treats the aged with respect. He is not 
rough even to a servant. Everybody loves him 
because his behavior is always so prudent and so 
pleasant. 

Fourth. The model boy is truthful. I have 
known children that would tell falsehoods. They 
w^ould tell them to get out of trouble, and they al- 
ways got into worse trouble. Some would tell fibs 
for fun; some would ^tell lies for mischief. Some- 
times they would disobey their parents, and then, 
for fear of punishment, would make up a tale and 
try to save their bodies from being whipped, and 
would agree to suffer all the lashings of a guilty 
conscience. I have always admired the character 
of George Washington, because from his boyhood 
he would tell the truth. He w^ould rather take a 
whipping than tell a lie. You all know he con- 
fessed, and denied not that he had tried the edge 
of his hatchet upon the favorite tree of his father's 
orchard ; and when his angry father was looking 
for the culprit, that he might punish him, little 
George said, " I cannot tell a lie, pa ; I did it." 
Noble boy, and brave as he was noble. The good 
boy loves the truth. He can bear the lash of the 



10 Our Young People. 

whip, or the stinging of the birch, but he cannot 
endure the lashings of a guilty conscience. 

Fifth. He loves his school. He tries to learn. 
He studies. He is glad when vacation is past, and 
he can be at school learning to be a wise man. 
His lessons are hard, but his teacher says they must 
be learned, and he will learn them if he can. He 
does not play truant. He does not pretend to be 
sick. He does not roam the woods with bad boys. 
He does not lose his books, or break his slate, just 
to have an excuse for not knowing his lessons. He 
does not waste his time reading dime-novels, when 
he ought to be at study. He does not form plans 
to go with bad boys, and spend the day in hunting 
and fishing, when his parents think he is at his 
books. He wants to learn. He is determined to 
be among the very best scholars. He is no dunce. 
He is sensible of his want of learning, and is de- 
termined to be a man, if attention and study can 
make him a man. 

Sixth. Our model boy loves the Sabbath-school. 
He is punctual. He rises early on Sunday morn- 
ing, and gets ready, so that he may not be behind 
the very smartest. He loves the songs, the lessons, 
and the teacher. He loves the superintendent and 
pastor. It is almost a holiday to him to go to 



The Model Boy. 11 

Sunday-school. The sweet tones of the little organ 
charm him. *' The Amaranth " has so many sweet 
songs, and the children's voices sing them so sweet- 
ly, that he is constantly reminded of heaven when- 
ever he goes to the Sabbath-school. 

Seventh. But, above all, our model boy loves the 
blessed Jesus. It was Jesus who said, " Suffer the 
little children to come unto me, and forbid them 
not." He loves Jesus because he was good and 
pure, and because, though he was rich, yet for us 
he became poor, that we might become rich. As 
an infant in the manger, as a child in the temple, as 
a man on the cross, all good children must love Him 
who tasted death for them, and for all the world. 

Such, my dear young readers, is the model which 
I present to you. Do not think that you cannot 
be as good as the one described. You can be all 
this. You are to determine this matter for your- 
selves. Choose the right. Honor your parents. 
Love truth. Fear God. Remember the Sabbath. 
Be kind and good to all. Study your lessons. 
Work for yourselves, your country, your God. Be- 
gin now. Do not put off a day or an hour the 
work God commands you to do. You can all be- 
come models in every excellence here, and each 
one can wear a crown in heaven if he will. 



12 Our Young People. 



A WONDERFUL INSTRUMENT. 

ITS USE AND ABUSE. 



THE older I grow, the more deeply do I feel 
that upon the young people now rising to 
manhood and womanhood will soon rest the desti- 
nies of this land of ours. May I then hope that 
the simple lessons of truth which I am seeking to 
inculcate will be read and pondered by you all? 

God has given to you a wonderful instrument. 
He has put it in a singular case. It is guarded by 
two doors, an outer and an inner door. The door 
within is made of costly pearls, and opens on per- 
fectly-formed hinges. The outer door consists of 
two shutters that fit each other exactly. They 
look as if they might be made of coral. They are 
as smooth and soft as velvet. When these two 
shutters part from each other, and the door of pearl 
is opened, then this singular instrument sends out 
from its case little winged carriages that float on 
the air. The carriages fly faster than you can 
think. You cannot see them, but you can hear 
them as they go whizzing through the air. The 



A WONDEBFUL INSTRUMENT, 13 

carriages are always supposed to be filled with 
something that comes from a large box that is just 
above the case that contains this strange instru- 
ment. The little fellows that ride in these car- 
riages, or vehicles, have power to bless or curse, 
bring happiness or misery, to make people better 
or worse. 

Each one of you has that instrument. Can you 
tell me the name of it? It is the tongue: the 
mouth is the case ; the teeth are the doors of pearl ; 
the lips are the outer doors, which are as soft as 
velvet, and as beautiful as coral ; the head is the 
knowledge-box that furnishes the little fellows that 
ride in the vehicles, or carriages ; the carriages are 
words which the tongue creates, and the thoughts 
are the little fairies that ride in them. 

Everybody says that the head thinks and the 
heart feels. Now, you all understand what God 
has given you, and in what a nice case he has put 
the instrument, and how well he has inclosed it — • 
shut it in. Let me talk to you of this instrument. 

First. Let me describe the truthful tongue. It 
is beautiful. It is lovely. It never deceives. It 
sends out no lies. A lie is a terrible thing. It is 
the ruin of many children. It makes their parents 
ashamed, and it makes God angry. I was once at 



14 Our Young People. 

the house of an old man. One of his sons had de- 
ceived him, and he was sad, very, very sad. His 
son had promised him never to gamble, never to 
play cards, and he had broken his promise. His 
father said to him, " Robert, I trusted you ; how is 
it you have deceived me?" "I have not deceived 
you,'' said Robert ; " I have not thrown a card. I 
never will." But the old man knew better ; and 
now Robert had grieved him more by his shame- 
ful falsehood. He said to me, though I was but a 
boy, "I once had a son who would not tell a lie, 
and he was a great comfort to me. I can say to 
you, my son Ed. never told me a lie in his life. He 
has moved far away, but up to the time he left me 
— then a man thirty years old — he had never told 
me a lie in his life. I hope," said the old man, 
*^you will never be guilty as my son is." Many 
years after that I w^as brought to the bedside of 
the son who had always told the truth. He was 
dying. His tongue still loved the truth. He want- 
ed nothing but truth on his tombstone. He asked 
that no obituary be written, lest the whole truth 
might not be told. Children, let me beg you to 
keep your tongues from sending out lying words to 
deceive man and dishonor God. ♦. 

Second. The kind and gentle tongue. This is 



A Wonderful Instrument. 15 

never harsh. It never uses such words as "fool" 
and "liar." It always has something pleasant for 
the aged and for the young. It is proof of a kind 
heart, for you can as easily tell how the heart is 
by what the tongue says, as y<iu can tell how the 
health is by the way the tongue looks. If the boy 
or girl has a good heart full of love and gentleness, 
of truth and kindness, the tongue will always speak 
kind and gentle words. It will not be quarrelsome. 
Rather than have a quarrel, or a fuss, it will be 
silent. It will keep the doors shut, and will never 
send out a word to hurt feeliugs. Silence, perpet- 
ual silence, is far better than unkind, cruel, insult- 
ing words. I love, and so does everybody love, a 
gentle tongue, for it is so much like the gentle 
God. The gentle tongue is like the gentle dew 
upon the bed of flowers, like the gentle shower 
upon the mown grass, like the gentle breeze that 
kisses your cheek on a summer's evening, like the 
sweet smile of infancy, like the gentle breathing of 
a mother's love, or the soft whispers of a mother's 
prayers. O be gentle, for grievous words stir up 
anger! An unkind word has sometimes destroyed 
the happiness of a life-time. I knew a boy at col- 
lege who, for just tw^o words of scorn and contempt, 
uttered for a fellow -student, was stabbed to the 



16 Our Young People. 

heart witK a Bowie-knife, and died in a few hours. 
I knew another. He was my classmate, and I 
loved him like a brother. He met a man on the 
streets, a harsh word was spoken, and in a moment 
he was stretched on the pavement in the agonies 
of death. Many a man has gone to the peniten- 
tiary, or to the gallows, who might have lived and 
died at home, in the bosom of a loving family, but 
for an ungovernable tongue, which spoke hard and 
violent words. I have never known a man to lose 
any thing or suffer any thing because he used gen- 
tle words. They are always words fitly spoken, 
and are like '^ apples of gold in pictures of sil- 
ver.'^ They are music to the ear, honey to the 
taste, and joy to the heart. They make the eye 
beam, the lips smile, and the face glow. They 
lessen sorrow, and increase joy. They put out the 
fires of angry passion, and kindle the flame of pure 
love. They pour oil upon the troubled waves of 
strife, and bid the raging billows down. They live 
forever ; they speak through eternity. These words 
will come back to you like the sweet echoes of the 
softest music, and will cheer your dying moments, 
and smooth your passage to the grave. Be truth- 
ful. Be gentle. And may He who is the gentle 
God keep your tongues from deceit, your lips from 



A WoxDEBFUL Instrument. 17 

guile, and make all your words as gentle as charity, 
and as true as God. 

It is told of an old philosopher that he was 
called upon by his king to have served for him 
and his friends a sumptuous dinner. That dinner 
was to be the very best that could be cooked and 
placed on a royal table. The time came, and the 
guests were on hand. The dinner consisted of 
nothing but tongues. He had tongues of every 
animal that was to be found, and which was used 
for food. He had tongues fried, and baked, and 
broiled. " This is your best dinner," said the king. 
'' This is my best, for the tongue is the best thing 
in the world," answered the philosopher. " Well, 
I appoint another feast, and I wish you to serve 
the meanest dinner that you can possibly get up," 
said the king. So another feast was prepared. 
When the guests went into the dining-room, they 
found nothing on the table but tongues. "How is 
this? " said the king. " When I asked for the best, 
you gave us tongues, and when I asked for the 
worst, you gave us nothing else. Is the tongue the 
^vorst as well as the best?" "Yes," said the phi- 
losopher ; " there is nothing so bad as the tongue. 
It can bless or curse, bring joy or sorrow^, peace or 
2 



18 Our Young People. 

war; it cau lead to virtue, or seduce to sin ] it can 
utter truth, or speak lies; it can be harsh or mild, 
rough or smooth, refined or vulgar, pure or impure." 
Let us now look at the pious tongue. It honors 
God; it never takes his holy name in vain; it 
never curses either friend or foe, either in jest or 
in earnest ; it often calls on the Father in heaven, 
but not in anger, and it calls not for curses, but for 
blessings. The words of piety never lose their 
power. If they fall from the lips of a mother, 
calling her prodigal boy from the haunts of sin, 
they will continue to call him long after the tongue 
that spoke them lies silent in the grave. If they 
arise in prayer from the family-altar, as a venera- 
ble father calls upon God to bless his wife and 
children, they go up to the throne of God, and will 
return in richest blessings long after the father has 
gone down to the grave. A pious tongue tells of 
a pious heart ; it speaks of a pure life ; it is rever- 
ent to God and respectful to man. It is sober and 
discreet, just and true. It is silent when prudence 
requires, and only speaks when it is proper and 
right. It loves the Bible, and speaks its praises. 
The Apostle James speaks of the tongue as wild, 
and hard to tame. It is hard to tame as a lion ; 
it is harder to govern than a ship. 



A Wonderful Ixstj^ument, 19 

Here we have the wicked, Wasphemous tongue. 
It takes the name of God in vain ; it is a foolish 
tongue; it has no reason. I once heard of a 
preacher who happened to be in the presence of a 
swearer that had an oath in almost every sentence. 
He determined to show him the folly of thus min- 
gling profanity with his conversation. So, instead 
of using the name of God, he put " shovel and 
tongs" in every sentence. "Mr. Smith and Mrs. 
Jones (shovel and tongs) were married last week 
(shovel and tongs) at the Episcopal Church." 
" Did you hear (shovel and tongs) the Rev. Henry 
Ward Beecher (shovel and tongs) preach when 
you w^ere last (shovel and tongs) in New York?" 
The swearing man said to him, "Please just leave 
off shovel and tongs. It seems extremely ridicu- 
lous to hear a man saying ^shovel and tongs' in 
every sentence he utters." "I will stop it," said 
the preacher, "if you will just quit swearing, and 
taking the name of God in vain." The profane 
man had never before seen how foolish must be a 
habit that common decency should have prevented 
him from indulging. It is not only foolish, but it 
is very wicked. The profane tongue is one of the 
blackest ever found in a human mouth. It is reck- 
less; it has no respect for God or man; it uses 



20 Our Young People. 

language fit only for demons; it is such a tongue 
as St. James says is set on fire of hell ; it can never 
enter heaven ; it has no excuse for its wickedness ; 
it brings no good either here or hereafter ; it is 
vile as the old serpent himself; it has the poison 
of asps ; it wounds the good ; it distresses the 
pious; it corrupts the innocent; it dishonors God. 
Sometimes a boy has this tongue — he thinks it 
manly to curse and swear. I pity him ; I pray for 
him ; I beg you to pray for him ; and I beseech 
you never to allow your tongue to take the great 
name of your Heavenly Father in vain. 

And here we have the lying tongue. It is cow- 
ardly; it is afraid to tell the truth; it is fond of 
mischief; it tells tales ; it gossips; it slanders; it 
flatters ; it deceives ; it is as bad as it can be ; it is 
sly ; it is cunning ; it is malicious ; it gets up quar^ 
rels and fights; it sets the school in an uproar; it 
parts the best of friends; it produces coolness, and 
sometimes hatred, among the parents, as well as 
with the children ; it is a pest, worse than the 
cholera or the small-pox. The venom of the lying 
tongue is worse than the poison of the rattlesnake, 
I would Tather be in the coil of the great boa-con- 
strictor than in the coils of a lying tongue. Put 
me in a den of hungry wolves, but not among liars, 



A Wonderful Instrument. 21 

Let me herd with wild, savage beasts in the caves 
of the mountains, but keep me and all my loved 
ones from such as will not tell the truth. If there 
is any thing that God hates it is a lying tongue. 
A lie is like the devil, w^ho is said to be the father 
of all lies. Lying is a growing sin — if you tell 
one, you have to tell another to make the first one 
good, and you have to tell the third to prop the 
second, and so on, until at last your sin will find 
you out. 

It is said a father took his son to Union College, 
Schenectady, N. Y., of which Dr. Nott was Presi- 
dent. He was noted for his influence over bad 
boys, and his power to reform them. The father 
said to Dr. Nott, "President, I have brought you 
my son, with the hope that you will make him a 
better boy." The President said, "What kind of 
a boy is he?" "A bad boy," said the father; "he 
has formed the habit of profane sw^earing." " Well, 
I think I can cure him of that," said the President. 
"He sometimes gets drunk," said the father. "I 
think I can cure him of that," said the President. 
"He loves to play cards, and I fear he will become 
a regular gambler." "I have hopes that I can 
save him from that," said the good President. " He 
is a terrible liar," said the father. "Take him 



22 Our Young People, ' 

home/' said the President ; " I can do nothing with 
him. A swearer, a drunkard, a gambler, I might 
hope to reclaim, but a liar is such an incorrigible 
sinner I dare not hope to save him. Take him 
home; I cannot receive him in the college." The 
words of a false tongue, passing through lying lips, 
taint the atmosphere, disturb the social relations, 
blast good manners, break up business, destroy 
friendship, poison domestic peace, and, sooner or 
later, must come to ruin. Beware of falsehood. 
Shun even its appearance. There are no white 
lies — they are all black as night. Boys, you will 
soon be men — be true men ; rise to this height ; 
stand by this resolve ; resist the old prince of liars, 
and dare to be like Christ. Girls, my dear girls, 
you will soon be women. Let your tongues never 
speak another word rather than be false. Be silent 
forever rather than tell a lie. Whether the truth 
is for you or against you, stick to it, and your 
womanhood will be as noble as true. 

By this time the readers of this book must be 
convinced of the great importance of the tongue — 
that^ it can give pleasure, or bring pain ; that it can 
promote virtue, or lead to vice; and that it can 
honor God and exalt man, or degrade the one and 



A Wonderful Ixstevment, 23 

dishonor the other. The eloquent tongue, wielded 
in behalf of country, truth, and God, has reformed 
governments, dispelled ignorance, lessened crime, 
built up schools and colleges, and elevated our sin- 
ful race to a higher plane-. The same tongue, 
\Yielded in the cause of wrong, has destroyed na- 
tions, increased vice> promoted wars and bloodshed, 
aroused the fiercest and wildest passions, and led 
both individuals and communities to sudden and 
inevitable ruin. A prudent tongue prefers wisdom 
to gain, peace to strife, and silence to gossip. Its 
utterances are quiet, calm, and true; it does no 
mischief; it promotes no discord; it separates no 
friends; it utters no slanders; it indulges in no 
vituperation. It creates no uneasiness in the minds 
of the parents who know that their sons or their 
daughters never indulge in imprudent speech. The 
possessor of a prudent tongue is ever a welcome 
guest among the wise and good. His company is 
always a source of pleasure, and his conversation 
is both instructive and pleasant. But an impru- 
dent tongue, w^ho can bear ? It is ever making 
blunders; it is ever setting the community in a 
broil ; it is always meddling with the business of 
others ; its interference is always for evil, and never 
for good ; its w^ords are forever spoken at the wrong 



24 Our Young People, 

time and in the wrong place; its criticisms, how- 
ever severe and unjust, are always so uttered as 
to do the most harm ; it keeps the family in a tur- 
moil, the school in trouble, and the community in 
most unpleasant excitement ; it needs a bit with a 
curb, to restrain its movements, to hush its follies, 
to tame its wildness, and silence its clamors. 

Then we have the murmuring, complaining, 
fault-finding tongue. Every thing goes wrong. 
The times are out of joint. The merchants are all 
Shylocks, and the farmers are still worse. The 
schools are all humbugs, and the Church is a nest of 
vile hypocrites. The old are bad enough, but the 
young are a thousand-fold worse. The preaching 
lacks point, the prayers want unction, and the 
singing is abominable. The organ sounds like a 
tin-pan, and the choir has not a good voice in it. 
Every man is an Ishmaelite, with his hand against 
every other man, or a Jacob, trying to cheat his 
brother. In the domestic circle, such a tongue is 
an annoyance beyond measure. It destroys all 
the pleasure of social intercourse, and breaks up 
the harmony of the family. It complains of the 
table, objects to the coffee, finds fault with the bis- 
cuit, and declares the whole meal to be execrable. 
Such a tongue in the mouth of a wife makes the 



A Wonderful Instrument. 25 

house of her husband worse than a house filled 
with smoke, and more gloomy than the famous 
cave of the Cyclops. Possessed by a husband, it 
makes a poor, nervous woman an object of pity. 
It has no mercy. It is harsh to her who, weary 
and worn, feverish and sick, claims constant sym- 
pathy, and actually needs the greatest tenderness 
and love. It frets and scolds, storms and raves, 
and converts that which should be the happiest 
spot on earth to a bedlam — to a place of wretch- 
edness, shame, and confusion. Such a tongue in 
young persons sends out words which burn like 
sparks of fire, and whose pungency is so intense as 
to be repugnant to every refined taste. It com- 
plains of a patient, loving mother, and of an ener- 
getic, devoted father; it is impatient with brothers 
and sisters, with teachers and schoolmates, and is 
as careless of the feelings of others as it is incon- 
siderate in the manner of expressing its bitter and 
unreasonable complainings. 

In conclusion, on the use and abuse of the tongue, 
allow me to lay down certain principles for the young 
readers of this little book by which they may be 
governed in its use : 

1. Determine to control the tongue. Never 
speak when in a passion. A soft answer turneth 



26 Our Young People, 

away wrath. It is said that a lady, whose husband 
was in the habit of using sharp and harsh epithets 
to her, applied^ to a physician for some remedy. 
He gave her a vial of a transparent liquid, calling 
it the "Elixir of Love," and told her to fill her 
mouth wdth it, and keep it filled as long as her 
husband indulged in abusive language. After a 
few weeks she returned for more, saying that it 
had had a charming efiect, and had almost broken 
her husband of his violent abuse. The physician 
told her that it was nothing but water. He only 
designed to teach her that by controlling her 
tongue she could control her husband. 

2. Never let prejudice control a single utterance 
of your tongue. 

3. Cultivate the heart and aflfections, and the 
tongue w^ill be gentle and pure, 

4. Love the truth down in the depths of your 
heart, and you will be sure always to speak the 
truth. 

5. Cultivate the intellect. Eead good books, and 
you will have no disposition to indulge in gossip 
and slandering, 

6. Cultivate cheerfulness, and then you will not 
be tempted to find fault, and complain of all that 
takes place. 



A Wonderful Instrument, 



27 



Filially, consider the gift of speech as one of the 
richest boons God has given you. Exercise it in 
the fear of God, with reverence to your parents, 
with kindness to your equals, and with justice to 
all. 



28 Our Youxg People. 



ELEMENTS OF SUCCESS. 



INCORRUPTIBLE INTEGRITY. 

THE first element of success is incorruptible in- 
tegrity. Without honesty the brightest genius 
must be obscured amid the clouds of error and de- 
ceit. Look at Lord Bacon. He was at one time 
the pride and glory of England. His mind was 
comprehensive, clear, broad, and deep. He could 
solve the most difficult problems, penetrate the deep- 
est mysteries, and unravel the most intricate sub- 
jects. He was a profound lawyer and a wise states- 
man. His scholarship was varied and thorough, 
his wit pungent, his eloquence was fascinating, and 
his influence more powerful than that of any other 
man at the court of England. As a philosopher, 
he was superior to any man of his day. He per- 
fected the system of induction which has done so 
much for the progress of knowledge, and especially 
for the promotion of discoveries and inventions. 
And yet this man, whose position was but little be- 
low that of the kiug, and whose mind shone with 
a splendor never surpassed, and rarely equaled, fell 



Elements of Success, 29 

into disgrace, lost position, became a condemned 
criminal, and was denounced as the \Yisest, great- 
est, meanest of mankind. Neither genius nor 
learning can make amends for the lack of honesty. 
Dishonesty has crept into all classes and commu- 
nities. It has formed rings so corrupt as to dis- 
grace society, and excite the fears of every honest 
patriot. It has dishonored the pulpit, soiled the 
ermine of the judge, and Avarped the sentence of 
the jury. It has entered into Congress halls and 
Cabinet councils, and left a foul blot upon the na- 
tional honor. Fraud and theft have left their im- 
press not only upon the national councils, but have 
made fearful inroads upon the public treasury. 
The obligations of contracts and the sanctity of 
oaths have been broken as though possessing no 
binding force. The highest offices have been pros- 
tituted to the basest purposes. Ambition, violent 
and remorseless 1 covetousness, cold, hard, and self- 
ish ; licentiousness, bloated, fiery, and corrupt, have 
united, like Pilate and Herod, to crucify truth, and 
banish honesty. For these times we need honest 
men, w^ho have the courage to do right, and who 
would rather be right than occupy the mansion of 
the President. We need strong men, who can re- 
gist temptation, put down ambition, silence the voice 



30 OuB Young People. 

of greed, hush the clamors of vile passion. An hon- 
est man is the noblest work of God. An honest 
character sheds a celestial radiance along the whole 
pathway of life. It is as strong as granite, and as 
transparent as glass. It hates corruption, despises 
fraud, and holds in utter contempt all the tricks 
of those who are seeking their own interest at the 
expense of truth and virtue. Honesty may be 
crushed for awhile, but it must and will rise. It 
wears a vestment which time cannot corrode ; it 
possesses a principle more durable than brass, and 
stands upon a foundation as immovable as the 
throne of the Eternal. The honest character may 
have to pass through the fires, but it is made of 
such stuff as no fires can harm. It is as immortal 
as truth, for its life flows from the bosom of the 
very Father of lights. Honesty, then, which no 
temptation can overcome, no seduction entice, no 
association corrupt, is the first great element of 
success. 

The influence of an honest character is as ex- 
alting as it is permanent, and is as ennobling as it 
is divine in its origin and continuous in its results. 
A dishonest man is a Judas Iscariot in religion, a 
Benedict Arnold in patriotism, and a Francis Ba-^ 
con in morals. His influence is destructive of 



Elements of Success, 31 

virtue, ruinous to morals, corrupting to the young, 
and more deadly in all respects than the most poi- 
sonous miasma that ever tainted the atmosphere, or 
carried desolation in its path. Cultivate honesty 
of purpose in all things. Life is made up of little 
things, and honesty in the smallest of them must 
be the rule governing your conduct. Dishonesty 
may flourish for awhile, but its success is but for a 
day. Its triumphs cannot continue, and its fruits 
are all Dead Sea fruits, beautiful to the sight, but 
ashes upon the lips. The way of the transgressor 
is hard. A cheat, a sham, a swindle, the dishonest 
boy or girl, the dishonest man, in all ages, must 
find the lowest level to w^hich humanity sinks. I 
have known boys who received high marks, which 
they obtained by fraud, and invariably, when dis- 
covered, they lost caste, and were rejected from 
the society of the better class of boys. Be not de- 
ceived by the false glare which sometimes shines 
out from the gambler's hell. Be not led astray by 
the seductive wiles of the servants of Satan. Seek 
no companionship with the low and vile. Never 
make a bad promise, and conscientiously keep 
every promise that you make. Take care of the 
little foxes that spoil the vines. Be honest down 
to a postage-stamp or a copper cent. Turn away 



32 Our Young People. 

Avith disgust from even the appearance of wrong. 
Kemember the Chinese proverb : " Take not off thy 
cap beneath thy neighbor's plum-trees, and tie not 
thy shoe in his melon-patch." The removal of the 
cap might lead him to suspect you were taking his 
plums, and stooping down to tie the shoe might 
appear to him as though you were pulling his mel- 
ons. Be scrupulous, and especially even in trading 
a pocket-knife. I once had a dishonest pupil, and 
when I last saw him he was pecking rock in the 
penitentiary at Nashville. I know a man, now in 
the Kentucky State-prison, who once occupied the 
highest social position. He committed forgery, 
and was borne from a delightful home, a devoted 
wife, and sweet children, to a convict's cell, there 
to remain for years, if not for life. I know another 
w^ho is slowly sinking to his grave, ruined in fort- 
une, blasted in reputation, distracted in mind, and 
w^asted with sickness — all the result of a dishonest 
act. Take warning from these melancholy exam- 
ples, and if honesty can assure success, make it 
certain. Love the honest, the true, and the good, 
with an affection pure as a maiden's, and as fer- 
vent as a hero's. 



Elements of Success. 33 

SKILL, OR INTELLIGENCE. 

The desire to succeed is as universal as our race. 
No man wishes to fail, and yet failure is the rule, 
and success the exception. I have endeavored to 
go thus far through the world with my eyes and 
ears open, and to take such observations of both 
men and things as might enable me to learn lessons 
of w^isdom, which might benefit both myself and 
others. As the result of an experience extensive, 
long-continued, and often painful, I am delivering 
to the young people of my country lessons which I 
trust will be remembered after I shall have passed 
the brink on which I now stand. The next ele- 
ment of success is skilh or intelligence. 

I hold that intelligence is necessary in the hum- 
blest avocations of life. It must guide the hand of 
the laborer on the farm and in the shop. The ig- 
norant mechanic spoils the job committed to him, 
and often ruins the material on which he works. 
My watch is out of order, and fails to keep time. I^ 
place it in the hands of a bungler, and it is returned 
to me in a worse condition than it was when I gave 
it to him to repair. An ignorant tailor spoils my 
coat, and an unskillful carpenter makes a misera- 
ble botch of the house which he was to build. So 
3 



34 Our Young People. 

it is ill every department of life. It requires skill 
to manage a farm, to buy and sell goods, to keep 
books, to roll pills, to mix drugs, and compound 
medicines, to cut and fit and make wearing ap- 
parel, and to give legal advice, or conduct a law- 
suit. Without it, the physician loses his patients, 
or has none either to cure or lose, the lawyer has 
no clients, the merchant breaks, the mechanic 
starves, and the farmer goes to ruin. Destitute of 
intelligence, conversation becomes vapid, trifling, 
and society itself loses dignity and worth. With- 
out skill, the noblest professions are debauched — 
the doctor becomes a quack, and the lawyer a jack- 
leg. An unskillful physician trifles with human 
life, and an ignorant limb of the law tampers with 
the highest interests of society, whilst the ignorant 
preacher degrades the most sacred of human call- 
ings, and fails in the utterance of truths upon 
which the eternal destinies of immortal beings hang. 
At this enlightened period of our civilization 
there is no excuse for ignorance. Books are abun- 
dant and cheap. The daily and weekly press sends 
out the current history of man. Schools are bet- 
ter furnished, and better taught, than ever before. 
Text-books are prepared with more care, upon a 
greater variety of subjects, than at any previous 



Elements of Success, 35 

period of the world's history. Steam aud elec- 
tricity have been brought into requisition to in- 
crease the sum of human knowledge. The twin 
volumes of nature and revelation have been opened 
to the perusal of man, so that he can read the 
thoughts of the Almighty. What excuse, then, 
can there be for ignorance? Man's interest, soci- 
ety's welfare, home comforts, present prosperity, 
and future progress, are all dependent upon intel- 
ligence. It blesses woman, and ennobles man. It 
lessens human wretchedness, and increases happi- 
ness. It makes labor more productive, and thereby 
adds immeasurably to life's comforts. It has given 
to us those w^onderful inventions w^hich enable us 
to travel without fatigue, to send our messages 
without strain of nerve or fiber, to plow in car- 
riages, and reap on horseback. It has dispensed 
with the sickle and the flail, and blessed us with 
the reaper and thresher in place. And yet, with 
all these improvements, our farmers often fail, and 
our merchants and mechanics go into bankruptcy. 
With schools such as never opened their doors in 
the life-time of our ancestors, we still lack for knowl- 
edge. With means of intelligence and sources of 
culture such as have seldom blessed any people, 
ignorance still prevails, and the land mourns. 



36 Our Young People. 

To learn we must study, and hence we have a 
third element of success — Energy. It is to work, 
earnest, hard work, that I look as one of the high- 
est elements of success. A lazy man never yet 
gained success, unless by the merest accident. La- 
bor is dignified and praiseworthy. It is the source 
of health, and the rich fountain of wealth. It is 
the law of our being, and the necessity of our ex- 
istence. It is the honor of our young men, and 
the glory of our young women. A lazy boy gains 
no knowledge, makes no advancement, learns no 
lessons, and wins no honors. He is the dunce of 
the school, and the shame of his parents. He be- 
comes the prey of sinful passions, and the slave of 
unholy appetites. He is as ignorant as he is lazy, 
and as depraved as he is ignorant. His youth is 
unpromising, and his age unblest. The man who 
at this day is ashamed of work is a dishonor to his 
race. Man was made for Avork. He must work, 
or violate every law of his being. Adam worked 
in the garden, angels work, and God works. I 
pity the man who feels himself above tilling the 
soil. We have too many gentlemen of leisure, too 
many soft-handed, kid-gloved gentlemen, seeking 
easy berths. We have too many fine ladies who 
are above cleauing a house, making a dress, set- 



Elements of Success. 37 

ting a table, or cooking a meal. We have too 
many idlers, too many loafers, too many consum- 
ers, and too few producers. I want us to return 
to first principles, and go to work. I love tlie work- 
ing-man, and from my heart I honor the industri- 
ous woman. I love industry — hard-handed, brown- 
faced, honest industry. I have no respect for the 
effeminate fop whose whole energy is expended in 
waxing his mustache, twirling his cane, and in 
primping before the glass. I have no patience 
with the vain beauty who wastes her time on cos- 
metics, and her father's money on costly toggery 
and foolish furbelows. I look with hope to the 
labor-loving boy, and the active, ready girl, who 
are willing to do their share in the work of home. 
It is work that has made the wilderness smile, and 
the desert rejoice; that has opened the farms, and 
built the cities ; that has increased our products, 
and extended our commerce ; that has erected our 
railroads, and equipped them for freight and travel. 
It is energy that makes the silken cotton and golden 
sugar ; that plows the field, and plants tho- grain ; 
that sows and reaps ; that spins and weaves ; that 
saws and grinds ; that fells the forest, and tunnels 
the mountain. It is energy — long-continued and 
persevering energy — that makes the profound schol- 



38 Our Young People, 

ar, the able lawyer, the eloquent statesman, the 
useful preacher, the wealthy farmer, the prosper- 
ous mechanic, and the successful man in any bus- 
iness. Idleness is the bane of society, the ruin of 
youth, and the forerunner of impoverished and 
helpless age. It produces no inventions, and makes 
no discoveries. It sleeps while others work, and 
starves while others prosper. The idle man is a 
drone in the hive of human industry, and as such 
is almost beneath contempt. 

Let me urge our young people, then, to overcome 
all influences which lead to sloth. Stand not on 
the street-corners. Waste no time in idleness. Be 
not ashamed of a sunburnt face, or a hard hand. 
Do not shrink from effort, earnest and faithful, 
persevering and exhausting, if it be needful to the 
accomplishment of a great object. Be resolved, 
if intelligence and industry combined shall accom- 
plish success, that you will stand upon the highest 
mountain of prosperity, and look with pity at the 
poor unfortunate idler at its base. 

PERSE VERANCE. 

Some time last April or May, as I was walking 
over some beautiful grounds, I discovered two 
young mocking-birds. They were scarcely able to 



Elements of Success, 39 

fly. Had I been disposed I could have easily 
caught them with my hands. They merely hopped 
from branch to branch, and when I approached, 
in attempting to fly they fell upon the ground in 
less than a dozen yards from the tree on which 
they were perched when I discovered them. In a 
short time these birds were sailing over the tops 
of the trees, and pouring forth their rich melodies, 
as happy, as musical, and as free as any birds 
found anywhere. It was by perseverance they 
gained strength of wing and such energy in flying 
as to put them out of harm's way. Failing of 
success at first, they tried again and again, until 
with active pinions they cleaved the air, and, sit- 
ting on the loftiest branches of the trees, regaled 
us with their sweet, diversified strains of music. 
Let these birds teach our young people a great les- 
son. If at first you do n't succeed, try, try again. 
Perseverance is, and ahvays has been, one prime 
element of success. When the great Demosthenes 
attempted to address an audience, his failure was 
so mortifying that he left the stage followed by the 
hisses of the multitude. He felt that he w^as al- 
most beneath the contempt of a people so elegant 
and refined as the Athenians. But he did not give 
up. He retired to a cave, and remained there for 



40 Our Young People, 

years, performing the greatest labor, undergoing 
the severest self-denial, and subjecting himself to 
the sternest discipline, until he was prepared to 
startle the Athenians with the thunder of an elo- 
quence whose echoes have not died away in more 
than twenty centuries. Perseverance overcame 
the defects of nature, imparted to him strength, 
compass, music, and power of voice, gracefulness 
of gesture, elegance and vigor of diction, and such 
control of the multitude, as to enable him to sway 
them to and fro like a forest swept by the tempest. 
Sixty years ago, Giles County, Tennessee, gave a 
youth to the ministry of a Christian Church. He 
hesitated, and almost stammered, in the delivery 
of his first discourses. So deeply w^ere some of his 
friejids mortified that he was advised to retire from 
the ministry, and return to his home. But he per- 
severed. He studied. He cultivated mind and 
heart, voice and action. He dug deep into the 
great mines of truth. He not only read books, 
but he pored over the great volume of Nature, and 
studied man, the universe, and God. He began 
to rise. His friends became proud of him ; 
Churches scrambled for him ; the young admired 
him, and the aged listened with wonder and joy 
to the sacred eloquence that flowed from his lips. 



Elements of Success, 41 

He became the popular and successful president of 
a college, and gathered around him hundreds of 
admiring and loving pupils. He is now the Senior 
Bishop of the Southern Methodist Church. His 
wisdom is profound, his knowledge is varied, his 
personal character is above reproach, and his power 
to govern men and guide the councils of his Church 
has never been surpassed, if equaled, in our his- 
tory. No man stands in the presence of Bishop 
Paine without feeling his greatness. He stands 
to-day the great conservative power of his Church, 
and is every inch a Christian Bishop. His life a 
success, his influence benign, and his talents sub- 
lime, he still lingers with us to bless, both by pre- 
cept and example, the flock of Christ. Long may 
he live, an example of the result of persevering 
labor! Adam Clarke was regarded as the dullest 
boy in the school, and yet he became the most 
profoundly learned divine of his day. Rising 
from obscurity, the butt of ridicule both to the 
teacher and the pupils, he became a living ency- 
clopedia of varied learning. Cornelius Vander- 
bilt, the founder of the Vanderbilt University, 
commenced life as a humble ferryman, without 
capital and without friends, and by perseverance 
acquired a fortune to be counted by the million. 



42 Our You kg Feoptal 

Forty years ago I became acquainted with one of 
the merchant-princes of Pulaski, Tennessee, and 
learned from his own lips that he began life a 
poor Irish boy — a stranger among strangers. He 
has since died, and left a legacy not only in 
dollars and cents, but a richer one in high moral, 
incorruptible integrity, and indomitable persever- 
ance, to children and grandchildren, to sons and 
daughters, who are known and respected over the 
State. Without perseverance genius itself becomes 
powerless, character is lost, and wealth is wasted. 
The eagle does not buffet the storm, nor, cleaving 
the ether, rise high toward the home of the sunbeam, 
at his first effort. It is only after long and perse- 
vering efforts that he rises above the clouds, and 
breasts the raging storm, or mingles his scream 
with the thunder, and plays with the forked light- 
ning. Perseverance overcomes ignorance, sharp- 
ens dullness, dispels poverty, climbs the mountain, 
crosses the ocean, wins distinction, gets wisdom, 
gains knowledge, and takes fast hold on instruc- 
tion. It rises from obscurity to honor, and from 
poverty to wealth. It is the rich man's prosperity, 
and the poor man's hope. It writes upon the ban- 
ner of the aspiring youth " Excelsior," and bids 
him bear it higher than indolence ever looked, and 



Elements of Success, 43 

hold it with a grasp of which impotence never 
dreamed. To our young people, then, let me urge 
with more than usual zeal this great lesson of per- 
severance. Without it, you accomplish nothing ; 
with it, you can conquer all things. By the sacred 
memories of the past, by the glorious triumphs of 
unfaltering and persevering energy, by the light 
of a long and varied experience, by a deep and 
abiding love for all my race, and by a life-long de- 
votion to the young, let me plead with you to per- 
severe in the right, the true, and the good. Falter 
not in the presence of obstacles; quail not before 
temptations ; yield not to the solicitations of sloth, 
or to the vile seductions of passion ; but, with an 
unwavering purpose, and a high resolve, dare to 
pursue the straightforward path of duty, which is 
the only path of safety. I stand now facing two 
worlds, the present and the future — time and eter- 
nity — and to the young people I offer these coun- 
sels with the sincerity of truth, and the earnestness 
of love. I beg you to ponder them and follow 
them until your present hopes shall be realized in 
a life of unusual prosperity, and your aspirations 
shall be fulfilled amid the rejoicing of friends at 
your unexampled success. 



4i Our Young People. 

ECONOMY. 

Another element of success is economy. Ex- 
travagance is a characteristic of our times. The 
credit system has drawn thousands into wild and 
foolish speculations, which have ended in financial 
ruin. The daily papers abound with dispatches 
containing sad accounts of failures entailing wide- 
spread suffering. Great mercantile firms often fail 
for hundreds of thousands, and drag with them to 
the dust helpless widows and orphans. Lack of 
economy, reckless running in debt, wild specula- 
tions, and gambling in stocks, have brought untold 
calamities upon an already suffering people, A 
daughter who is devoted to fashion demands of 
overindulgent parents dresses of the finest texture, 
and at the highest prices. A fine hat costs twenty 
dollars, and then she must glitter in diamonds. 
Thus debts are incurred, and ruin follows. The 
great and good Bishop Marvin, in one of his last 
charges to young men, urged them not to go in 
debt. "Rather,'*' said he, "wear plain apparel, 
and let it be threadbare, or covered with patcheS; 
than go in debt for costly clothing. Economy pays. 
A penny saved is a penny gained. Extravagance 
wastes. Debt is an eatins; canker. Kuin follows 



Elements of Success, 45 

on the heels of wild speculation. Nor is it economy 
to purchase goods because they are cheap. Make 
it a rule to buy nothing simply because of its 
cheapness. Buy ^vhat you need, and no more. 
Remember that most of our wants are imaginary." 

Man wants but little here below, 
Kor wants that little long. 

If all our young people would learn this truth, and 
limit their expenses to their wants, success would 
be far more frequent, and in the very near future 
failures would simply be matters of history. The 
amount spent in foolish and costly pleasures, for 
cigars, tobacco, and liquors, if employed for repro- 
duction and increasing values, would do more for 
the country than silver bills or resumption acts. 

Then to economy temperance must be added as 
another very important element of success. An 
intemperate man is almost sure to fail in any bus- 
iness which he may follow. He cannot succeed. 
His mind becomes bewildered. His passions as- 
sume the control of reason, and bid defiance to all 
efforts at restraint. His judgment is lost amid the 
fumes of alcohol. His talent for business is anni- 
hilated by the fierce passion for strong drink. The 
beast psurps the place of the man, and appetite 



46 Our Young People, 

rules wliere reason should hold control. Who can 
trust a man given to intoxication ? Of what bus- 
iness is a drunken man capable ? He is unfit for 
any of the learned professions, and is equally in- 
capable of being a thrifty farmer, or a prosperous 
mechanic. All this is well known, and yet each 
generation is cursed with its brood of drunkards. 
Drunkenness, though so degrading and so ruinous, 
has its fascinations, and still leads on its thousands 
of revelers to destruction. It inflames the blood, 
and fires the brain. It wastes the muscles, and 
shatters the nerves. It beclouds the intellect, and 
hardens the heart. It destroys the morals, and 
scatters the estate. It poisons the cujd of domestic 
bliss, and brings woe and sorrow into the family 
circle. It degrades the highest manhood, and ex- 
tinguishes the light of the loftiest genius. It blights 
the hopes of the heart-broken wife, and sweeps 
away the last prospects of a once happy household. 
Its touch is more poisonous than the bite of the 
rattlesnake, and its coils more deadly than the 
folds of the boa-constrictor. It is a soulless robber, 
and a heartless murderer. It charms to slay, and 
it fascinates to destroy. It enters the happy home 
of innocence and love, and leaves nothing but 
blighted hopes and ruined peace. Wherever it 



Elements of Success, i 47 

goes it leaves the serpent's trail, and wherever it 
stays it brings sorrow, and crime, and misery, and 
death. It spares neither age nor sex. It com- 
bines all the horrors of war, pestilence, and fam- 
ine. War does its bloody work, and allows peace 
to return. Pestilence sweeps away its thousands, 
and gives way to returning health. Famine car- 
ries desolation into countless homes, and departs 
amid the rejoicings of those to wdiom plenty has 
been restored. But this monster, Intemperance, con- 
tinues with remorseless greed along all the genera- 
tions of civilized man. The most stirring eloquence, 
the most melancholy examples of utter ruin, the 
most patriotic organizations, and the most power- 
ful appeals, have all, thus far, proved insufficient 
to rid the w^orld of this one great foe. Temper- 
ance invites by all the blessings of w^hich it is the 
rich and unfailing source, and pleads with all the 
eloquence of truth, wdth all the energy of love, to 
the rising youth of the land, to look not on the 
wine w^hen it is red, and to rise not up in the morn- 
ing to follow after strong drink, and to stay not 
till the wine inflame them. By the rosy cheeks of 
health, by the firm and elastic step of its votaries, 
by the sound mind in a sound body, it calls away 
from bacchanalian revels, or drunken orgies. It is 



48 Our Young People, 

the light of genius, the stay of conscience, the 
strength of reason, the hope of prosperity, and the 
fountain of domestic bliss. It gives life to busi- 
ness, and energy to trade. It is the buoyant hope 
of youth, and the calm, serene joy of age. With- 
out it, success is impossible, and prosperity unat- 
tainable. Without it, life is either a scene of the 
wildest passions and most degrading crimes, or one 
long, wretched, lingering death. 

Such, then, are the elements of success which I 
would recommend to our young people. Intelli- 
gence, Honesty, Energy, Perseverance, Economy, 
and Temperance, united, will produce such results 
as will gladden the hearts of your parents, fill the 
community with joy, and cause our impoverished 
people to look up with hope to the future. If I 
could know that these lessons w^ould cause you to 
form good resolutions, and that they w^ould make 
their impress on your characters, I would feel that 
I had not lived and labored in vain. My object 
in sending out this little volume is to make truth 
more attractive, and virtue more beautiful ; to 
point out the evils which beset you, and the dan- 
gers which threaten you ; to portray the fearful 
horrors of ignorance and falsehood, of sloth and 
crime, and to direct to the path of the just, which 



Elements of Success, 49 

shines more and more unto the perfect day. I am 
no croaker. I would not deprive the young of one 
innocent pleasure. I would not put a thorn in the 
path of a single individual that lives. I would 
stanch every wound, and dry up every tear of sor- 
row. I love young people with all the depths of a 
nature by no means cold. I never look upon a 
crowd of boys or girls, of young men or young 
women, without a thrill of most lively interest. 
Surely, then, I may claim to be heard, if not for 
my age and experience, at least for my abiding 
love for those whose characters must determine the 
future of this land of ours. 
4 



50 Ouii YouKG People. 



HABIT. 



HABIT is the result of custom. The constitu- 
tion of the mind and body is such as that 
the frequent repetition of any act creates a desire 
for its performance, and imparts an ease and read- 
iness with which it can be done. This is called 
liahii,, and exerts a most important influence upon 
the life and conduct. In the first efforts of the 
child to repeat the multiplication table the process 
is awkward, slow, and difficult. After awhile the 
table is repeated without effort, and with a facility 
and accuracy almost marvelous. This is the re- 
sult of habit. The first efforts to walk or run, to 
spell or read, to knit or sew, to cut or drive, are 
necessarily made without grace or dexterity. Many 
mistakes are made, and many awkward blunders 
committed. It is alone by custom — by frequent 
and patient repetition — that the habit is acquired 
of performing any act with grace, ease, and ele- 
gance. It is thus the physician acquires his skill, 
and the lawyer rises to eminence. By it the ac- 
countant becomes an expert, and casts up long 



Habit. 51 

lines of figures with a rapidity and accuracy al- 
most incredible. The child now trying to learn 
the proper use of her fingers in playing on the 
piano often becomes discouraged, and turns away 
almost in despair from her practice. If, however, 
she will continue her practice, in a few years she 
will excite the admiration of all her friends by the 
elegance and accuracy of her performance. It is 
by the force of habit that the extemporaneous 
speaker is enabled to speak for an hour with flu- 
ency and dignity, with real eloquence and power. 
So it is that the practiced writer turns ofl* in a few 
hours pages of splendid composition, all ready for 
the press. By the same means — the force of habit 
— the book-keeper has his accounts always bal- 
anced, the chemist performs his delicate and even 
dangerous experiments, the doctor counts the beat- 
ing of the pulse without looking at the watch, and 
the musician detects the slightest discord in a large 
orchestra. So great is the facility sometimes ac- 
quired that the act is unconsciously performed. 
Thus in the intricate mazes of the dance many a 
step is taken, and in a difficult piece of music 
many a note is brought out, wdthout the conscious- 
ness of the performer. It is not, however, alone 
in the ease with which any thing is done, on ac- 



52 Our Young People, 

count of the frequent repetition, that habit consists. 
Another element is the desire for the performance, 
which is produced by its frequent repetition. The 
performance may be at first ever so unpleasant and 
disgusting ; it will not be long before it will be eager- 
ly sought after, and most gladly performed. The 
boy's first efibrt at chewing tobacco makes him 
sick. He is disgusted with himself and his " quid." 
After awhile he loves the weed, and delights in the 
filthy practice. It is a luxury beyond the richest 
viands, and to give it up would require the great- 
est self-denial. So it is with the first oath that the 
boy swears. His tongue is almost paralyzed. He 
is alarmed at his own wickedness. He looks around 
to see if any acquaintance has been witness to the 
blasphemy. Shame mantles his cheek with blushes, 
or blanches it almost with the paleness of death. 
He resolves not to do the like again, but in a short 
time he becomes an adept. He is a vociferous 
swearer. He utters the vilest curses. He perpe^ 
trates the most vulgar oaths without shame and 
without remorse. On the streets, among bis com- 
panions, in the presence of age and piety, and alas! 
sometimes in the hearing of refined and Christian 
women, he is guilty of the grossest profanity. The 
first drunken debauch brings upon the boy, or 



Habit. 53 

young man, inexpressible mortification. He is 
ready to take a Bible-oath that his first shall be 
his last. But mark the downward course of habit. 
At first, and almost without effort, any one can 
turn from it, and proclaim himself a free man. 
He can break away from a habit not yet inveterate 
— not yet fully formed — as easily as Samson broke 
the withes with which he was tied. Before a year 
has passed he is bound hand and foot, a slave to 
appetite, and almost powerless to contend with a 
monster as powerful as he is evil and destructive. 
The first lie the boy tells gives infinite pain. The 
lashes of a guilty conscience are constant, and re- 
morse is almost intolerable. He repeats the lie. 
He adds another to make the first good. He be- 
comes involved, and, to release himself, he adds 
another and another until soon he forms the habit 
of lying. Truth has dejoarted. Sincerity has gone, 
Candor has taken its flight. Conscience is lulled, 
Remorse has ceased to give pain, and now Lying 
has become a habit. If he tells the truth, it is by 
accident. He lies almost instinctively, and with- 
out effort. The old proverb is fulfilled, and habit 
becomes second nature. It seems as natural for 
him to lie as to speak. Such and so mortifying 
is any bad habit. It is down! down!! down!!! 



54 Our Young People. 

I have seen the poor deluded young man as he 
started down. I have talked with him after his 
first debauch. I have witnessed his penitence, 
heard his self-accusations, and seen his tears, and 
yet I have known him to go on and on until he 
died a slave, held fast by the adamantine chain of 
habit. It is against the formation of one evil habit, 
nay, of all evil habits, that, my dear young people, 
I lift my warning voice. Your habits are not yet 
inveterate. You are not too far gone in any wrong 
course to retrace your steps. Delay not one mo- 
ment. Dally not with the tempter. Take not an- 
other step in vice. Submit not your free wills to 
the chains of a vile habit. The fabled Vulcan 
never forged stronger, and a slave never wore 
chains more galling. Be free, be noble, strong 
men, and pure, brave women. Listen, attentively 
listen, to the stern teachings of examples, to the 
earnest entreaties of love, to the fearful lessons 
which come from ruined fortunes and blighted 
hopes, and to the terrible warnings of God, as they 
are found in his holy word. Listen to one who 
has spent his life for the good of the youth of both 
sexes in this dear Southern land of ours, and never, 
no, never, contract a bad habit. 



Habit. 55 

A few years ago I visited an asylum for crazy 
people. Among those that were in that large build- 
ing, shut out from all his friends, and among those 
that were deprived of reason, was a man of fine 
sense. He was well educated. He had been 
brought up in wealth, and moved in the best soci- 
ety. He had married an elegant lady. He had 
every thing to make him happy. But alas, he 
formed the habit of drinking, and he became a 
drunkard ! Brandy upset his reason. It made 
him a maniac. On this account his friends sent 
him to an asylum for the insane. I conversed with 
him, and found him far above ordinary men in in- 
telligence. He had read a great deal, and had a 
large amount of knowledge. He conversed on al- 
most any subject with ease and elegance. He said 
the habit was overcome, he was free, and ought to 
be as free in body as he was in soul, and he must 
be released from his prison. I thought so too. A 
few days afterward the physician said to him, 
"Here is some medicine — give it to this patient ; 
but mark, it is poison : give it in drops ; give it in 
small broken doses." The poison had been dis- 
solved in brandy. He smelt the brandy. The old 
habit came over him. He did not give it to the 
patient, but drank it himself The dose came near 



56 Our Young People, 

killiDg him ; he knew it would, but he was a slave, 
and was bound to his master. 

I knew well a lady in a distant State who con- 
tracted the habit of eating morphine, or opium. 
Her husband refused to buy it. She would get it 
secretly — she would sell her clothes for morphine. 
She would have been willing to die, and would 
gladly have given her life, for the horrible poison. 
She could not break off from her madness, and 
died at last the victim of a habit which she could 
not overcome. She was a wife and mother, but 
the lost sight of these holy ties in her fondness for 
opium. I have seen many a woman ruin her health 
by the foolish habit of tight lacing. I have known 
many a man that did not live out half his days 
because of the wicked habit of drinking liquor. I 
have seen a man suffering untold horrors because 
he had brought on the gout by eating large quan- 
tities of the richest food. I have seen many homes 
dark, dreary, and desolate, because the parents had 
contracted the habits of idleness. Idle habits 
w^aste mind and muscle, and bring want and woe. 
The one habit of drunkenness has produced more 
crime, and saddened more homes, and crushed 
more hearts, than you could count in years. The 
habit of gambling has robbed the young, killed 



Habit. 57 

time, hardened the feelings, and turned many a 
man almost to a fiend. The habit of doing all for 
self has made man's heart as hard as stone. The 
habit of profanity has destroyed often all respect 
for religion, all reverence for God, and all regard 
for the pious. The habit of licentiousness has sunk 
those once pure and good to the lowest dens of in- 
famy, and caused them to engage in scenes vile 
enough to fill the bosom of a fiend with shame. 
So, then, habit rules the world. All human beings 
form habits either good or bad. Good habits help 
the benevolent to give with a liberal hand. They 
assist the righteous in doing justice and loving 
mercy, and walking humbly with his God. They 
make him strong in the presence of temptation, 
and give him power to conquer. They give author- 
ity to virtue, increase the power of conscience, and 
proclaim God supreme. They help in every work 
of piety to God, and of duty to man. They give 
more energy to prayer, and greater strength to 
higher resolve. They make the family a delight, 
and fill the home-circle with joy and peace. When 
you become men and women, you must say that 
you never became the slave of bad habits, that 
you never learned to eat opium or drink brandy, 
that you never made appetite your master, that 



,68 Our Young People, 

you never indulged in profanity or vulgarity, that 
you learned to pray while young, and continued it 
while you lived. 

I have written to you so much on habits because 
now is your time to form your habits for life. I 
write these lessons for you because I have seen the 
great and noble surrender to a bad habit, and ruin 
their prospects for this world and for the world to 
come. 

You are on the voyage of life. You must sail 
over this sea until you reach your port in safety, 
or until, wrecked and ruined, you sink to rise no 
more. Bad habits rise up, like huge breakers, to 
split the ship, and send the freight to the bottom. 
They come over life's voyage like successive storms, 
which will sweep you to ruin and to death. I knew 
one man, by one single habit, to ruin an entire 
neighborhood of promising young men. Their 
voyage ended at the beginning, amid darkness and 
despair. Ruined by the influences of one bad 
habit, they brought sadness to their homes, wretch- 
edness to their friends, and ruin to themselves. 

You that have studied geography know that 
there is upon the coast of Norway a terrible whirl- 
pool, and that when once a vessel gets within that 
whirl no power can possibly turn away its dreadful 



Habit. 59 

doom. It is said that once a royal party moved 
out gayly on a magnificent vessel from one of the 
ports of Norway. By some strange mistake the 
pilot neared the dreadful maelstrom. For a short 
time the joyful party knew not what force was 
speeding them so rapidly over the sea. They were 
glad. They had music and dancing, wit and mirth, 
and all went merry as a marriage-bell, but soon 
they were informed of the terrible mistake. They 
made signs to the shore, but no help could come. 
Faster and faster, in narrower circles, this noble 
vessel was carried like a feather around the fear- 
ful vortex. Every face was pale with fright, every 
tongue was silent. Mirth and laughter gave way to 
the deepest gloom. Then, in a moment, down, down 
into the gulf. The vessel was .torn to shreds, and 
every one on board went down into the dark waters. 
So it is with all who have gotten into the whirl- 
pool of bad habits. They dash like fearful bil- 
lows ; they carry one down, down, down into a 
whirlpool more fearful far than that which swept 
the giddy throng of royal dancers, and sunk them 
all to a watery grave. Beware of bad habits, I 
beseech you! Beware! 

Many years ago I saw a blind mule going round 



60 Our Young People. 

and round in a small circle, as though he were on 
a tread-mill. After seeing him repeat it day after 
day, I inquired of his owner why the mule went 
those rounds. He said that for months he had 
been in the habit of treading mortar for bricks — 
that he was very regular, and usually put him to 
work about ten o'clock each day. "And now," 
said he, "though I am done, he commences regu- 
larly, as though he were in the mortar-bed, and 
continues it daily for an hour or two.'' The truth 
was, the mule had gotten in the habit of treading 
mortar until he was at his business on dry land, 
where no mortar was. You have often heard it 
said, " You cannot teach an old dog new tricks." 

The elephant learns to dance thus: A large 
piece of ground is heated by burning logs upon it. 
The elephant is placed upon this heated spot, and 
at the same time a fiddle is played. The elephant 
begins to dance because the earth is so hot he can- 
not stand still. This is repeated daily for a long 
time. When, at last, the elephant is brought out, 
and the music begins, the earth has not been heated, 
and yet the elephant dances. He has formed the 
habit of associating the fiddle with the dance, and 
he dances from habit. So a human being can 
Icaj'n to associate certain sounds with the dance, 



Habit, 61 

and will feel like dancing whenever such sounds 
are heard. When I was a boy, I saw a man drink 
a gill of laudanum. It would have killed an ordi- 
nary man. He did not appear to feel it, because 
he had been in the habit of drinking laudanum 
for a long time. 

A great many years ago there was a man in one 
of our large cities who wrote poetry and essays of 
different kinds. He used the most beautiful lan- 
guage, and employed the finest imagery. He was 
much admired by the young. He became fond of 
drinking wdiisky. He loved it. He thirsted for 
it. It made him drunk. He fell in the street. 
He lay senseless on the sidewalk. He took the 
pledge to drink no more, and still he drank. At 
last he put himself in jail, where no brandy could 
be obtained, and his thirst became so great for it 
that he said, *'If a loaded cannon was between me 
and whisky, I would go before its open mouth, and 
run the risk of being killed, just to drink one glass 
of liquor." Such was the force of habit with that 
wonderful genius. 

I will give you another example : There is old 
Jim Toper. He and I were boys together. He 
was as bright and happy a boy as you ever knew. 
He was full of fun. He was generous. He was 



62 Our Young People. 

noble. He loved play, and delighted to enjoy him- 
self with his playmates. He stood at the head of 
his class. His father was a rich man, and lived 
on the fat of the land. He had a distillery. He 
took his dram in the morning, his grog at noon, 
and eggnog every Christmas. Jim drank with his 
father. The old man would leave a little in the 
bottom of his tumbler every morning, and Jim 
w^ould drink. Then he would say, ^' Pa, leave a 
little more, it is so good.'' And thus he went on 
until his father died, and left him his still-house 
and farm. He was rich. He drank more and 
more, until he became a drunkard. He married. 
He had children. He spent his property. His 
wife died of a broken heart, his children were sent 
to the poor-house, and he went down lower and 
lower. Everybody knows old Jim Toper. He is 
in rags. He is wretchedly miserable. And yet, if 
you were to give him a dime to-day, he would spend 
it for whisky. He formed a habit, and now the 
habit rules him. He is gone ! He will soon die, 
and be buried in the potter's field. It is terrible 
for a man to form such a habit. It is as though 
he had an iron collar around his neck, and iron 
chains on his feet. How you would pity a man 
who was so burdened that day and night he had 



Habit, 63 

to wear his collar and his chain ! You ask, " Who 
put that collar on him ? " I will tell you, ^' He put 
it on himself." " Who fastened those chains around 
his feet?'' "He did it himself." "Why does he 
not take them off?" "He has no power; he can- 
not break his manacles. Day and night he wears 
them ; they chafe him; they cow him; they make 
him feel ashamed, and he wants to get rid of them, 
but he has no power." Such is the condition of 
the man that has formed a bad habit. He wears 
that habit as a man wears a chain which he can- 
not break. 

I once heard a pupil of mine swear, and I went 
up to him, and said, "My dear boy, I am sorry to 
hear you take the name of God in vain." " 0," 
said he, "I cannot break off the habit. My father 
taught me to swear when I was a little boy, and 
now that I see how wrong it is, I cannot help it." 
Poor boy! he was a slave to a habit as foolish as it 
was wicked. It is no excuse for sin that you have 
gotten in the habit of sinning. Suppose a mur- 
derer, or a robber, were to plead he had formed 
the habit of murdering, or robbing, so that he could 
not help committing the crime, would not the judge 
and jury hang such a man ? You know he would 
be hanged, or sent to the penitentiary for life, or 



64 Our Young People, 

he ought to be. Seeing, then, what a terrible thing 
an evil habit is, I desire to give you certain rules 
which you must be sure to follow, and then you 
will never be slaves to bad habits : 

1. Never do a wrong thing. Never begin a 
downward course. Keep all the commandments. 
Shun the first step in sin. Drink no liquor. Tell 
no falsehoods. Speak no blasphemy. Keep no 
bad company. Say no vulgar w^ords. Kead no 
bad books. Go not in the way of sin and death. 

2. Have a plan of life. Carry out that plan 
every day. This will give you method. Say, for 
instance, you have three studies. Have a time for 
each. You could easily say, " I will study geogra- 
phy from eight to ten ; arithmetic, from ten to 
twelve; and grammar, from two to four." Carry 
out this plan, and you will be sure of success ; you 
will be sure to become a first-rate scholar, and al- 
ways stand at the head of your class. 

3. Form the habit of punctuality. Be punctual 
in every thing. Be at school at roll-call. Do not 
be behind at recitation. Never be a laggard. 
Never have teacher or pupils waiting for you. 

4. Be neat and tidy in person. Mr. Wesley 
says, "Cleanliness is next to godliness." It pro- 
motes health ; it increases beauty ; it ennobles 



Habit, 65 

thought ; it makes others respect you, and gives 
you more influence for good. Fouhiess and filth 
are always the helpers of sin. It is almost impos- 
sible to be good if you are not clean and nice. 

5. Stick to your duty. Do not be fickle. Per- 
severe. Hold on to the right. 

6. Do every thing well. If you, little girls, are 
making doll-dresses, make them well. Have them 
fit well. Let the stitches be neat. So you, little 
boys, whatever you do, do well. If you make a 
box, or a trap, or a broom, do it well. Get your 
lessons well. Do not be satisfied with half-doing 
any thing. The habit of doing all things well will 
make you a blessing to society as long as you live. 

7. Be cheerful. Do not be envious, or jealous. 
Do not fret, and scold, and murmur, because you 
have something to do. Be glad that you can be 
useful. Be contented wdth your lot. Cheerfulness 
can be cultivated so that it w^ill never forsake you, 
even amid poverty and afifliction. 

8. Form the habit of prayer. If I were a boy 
again, I would be sure to pray every day that God 
would give me grace to do my duty ; to form no 
bad habits ; to keep all my good resolutions ; to 
obey and honor my parents, and to serve Him faith- 
fully while I live. 



66 Our Young People. 

Finally, my dear young friends, if you have 
formed any bad habits, break them off now and 
forever. Turn away from them. It is easier to 
do that now than at any future time. In the race 
of life, start well ; run true ; keep on to the end. 
Then you will have the crown of life which Jesus 
has purchased for you, and for all that love and 
serve him. 



Conscience. 67 



CONSCIENCE. 



I ONCE knew a boy that was very smart and 
very proud ; his name w^as Kobert. Robert 
always stood at the head of his class ; he was the 
best reader in school; he could speak almost as 
well as Henry Clay or Daniel Webster. He could 
do this when he was not more than nine or ten 
years of age. As Robert was doing so well, his 
father gave him a fine new hat before the old one 
was worn out. Robert asked to lay his old one 
aside, and wear his new one all the time ; but his 
father told him no, that he must wear the old one 
awhile longer, and keep his new one for his Sun- 
day hat. In a few days Robert came to his father- 
with the news that his old hat was gone, that he 
did not know where it could be. His father looked 
■ at him earnestly, and said, " Robert, tell me what 
you did with the hat." "I did nothing with the 
hat, pa; I left it in my room, and somebody has 
taken it." So Robert put on his fine new hat, and 
wore it to school. But Robert felt uneasy, for he 
had thrown the old hat into the gutter. He had 



68 Our Youxg People, 

told his father an untruth. The voice within him 
said, "O Robert, Robert, you have deceived your 
father, but you have not deceived God!" Robert 
went home, but he could not meet the honest gaze 
of his father. He was very shy. He had but 
little to say, and looked as though he was con- 
demned to be hanged. His father was very kind, 
and tried to get Robert to talk to him ; but that 
voice, talking to him in his heart, telling him how 
wickedly he had done, prevented him from talk- 
ing. He could hardly endure to stay where his 
father was. *'What is the matter. Bob?'' said his 
father. ''ISTothing at all," said Robert. Again 
Robert went moping to school. He wished for his 
old hat, but it was gone. He wished he had never 
seen his new one. He could not study. He never 
recited his lessons so badly in all his life. The 
teacher said, ^' Why, Robert, what is the matter ? 
I never knew you to do so badly." He was getting 
down to the foot of his class. He could not sleep. 
What must he do ? It seemed that he would die 
if he did not get rid of the load on his heart. He 
could not replace the old hat ; it was in the gutter, 
and could not be replaced at any price — it was 
lost. What could he do ? At last he determined 
to obev the voice within him that said, " Go and 



Conscience, 69 

tell your father all about it." He was much 
ashamed. He went very slowly and with down- 
cast looks to his father. He said, "Pa, I have 
something to tell you." " Say on, my son,'' said 
the father. " Pa, I have told you a lie : I threw 
my old hat in the gutter. I was proud of my new 
hat, and wished to wear it, so I threw my old one 
away. I could not rest, I could not study, I was 
miserable, and was obliged to tell you all about it. 
Please, pa, forgive. I will never do so any more." 
He was sure it would come to this. He was sorry 
for the poor boy. He said, " My son, I have ever 
taught you to tell the truth. It was no disgrace to 
have an old hat on your head, but it was a dis- 
grace and a shame to have a lie on your con- 
science. I am glad that you feel as you do. You 
have had far more punishment than I could in- 
flict by whipping you. I forgive you, my boy. 
Pray to God, and he will forgive you, and never 
again tell a lie." "I never will tell another 
lie as long as I live," said Robert, as tears came 
to his eyes and his voice trembled. He kept 
his word. Robert is now a man, and is a min- 
ister of great distinction. He has very few 
equals. His people love and honor him, but he 
often thinks of how heavy that new hat felt on 



70 Our Young People, 

his head, and how much heavier felt that lie on 
his heart. 

I have told you this tale to enable you to under- 
stand what is meant by conscience. It is to your 
soul what your eye is to your body. As with your 
eye you see houses, and trees, and men, and 
women, and every thing else around you, so with 
your conscience you see right and wrong. If you 
had no eye, you would knoAV nothing of the color 
of any thing ; and if you had no conscience, you 
could never learn right from wrong. Robert had 
a conscience. It was a tender conscience, and it 
spoke to his heart, and told him how wickedly 
he had acted in throwing away his old hat, and 
then saying he did not know what had become of 
it. After Robert had confessed his sin, and his 
good father had forgiven him, he was like another 
boy : he was so happy, he could now study, and he 
soon got up in his class. He could talk to his fa-, 
ther without feeling shy a bit. His conscience was 
all right, and he was all right. It is a terrible 
thing to abuse the conscience, to refuse to see the 
difference between right and wrong, or to silence 
its voice when it whispers a rebuke for doing wick- 
edly. I knew a boy once who did a wicked thing, 
and allowed another boy to be punished for it. 



Conscience, 71 

He lost his character ; he never again held up his 
head at school. He used to go home to flee from 
the indignation of the other boys; but he could 
not flee from his conscience — that followed him 
wherever he went. 

A little girl went into a store with a two-dollar 
bill. The clerk, through mistake in making the 
change, handed her back two dollars and the doll. 
So she got the doll for nothing. She did not tell 
the merchant. She was very glad at first, but 
soon she became uneasy. A dollar was on her con- 
science. It was the heaviest burden she ever bore. 
She could not bear it. She went to her mother, 
and told her all. Her mother told her to go right 
straight to the merchant, and give him back his 
money. She went. The merchant had not dis- 
covered his mistake ; he commended her for being 
a good girl, gave her a nice present, and she went 
away a thousand times happier than if she had 
kept the dollar. 

Such is the power of conscience. It has the 
power to make us happy or miserable, and to make 
us brave or cowardly. It makes the wicked flee 
when no man pursueth. It often makes the mur- 
derer confess his crime, and the rogue restore his 
stolen goods. It causes guilt to show itself on the 



75 OvR Young People, 

countenance, red with blushes, or pale with fright. 
It takes away the appetite, and destroys the health. 
It puts a thorn in the pillow, and prevents sleep. 
A bad conscience is like a coal of fire on the 
heart, or like a sharp, poisonous dagger in the 
bosom. 

In the foregoing I have endeavored to show 
what is meant by the conscience, and to illustrate 
its abuse. It is the noblest faculty that God has 
given us. It is almost as his voice within us, im- 
pelling to the right, and restraining from the wrong ; 
punishing us when W'C have done wrong, and re- 
warding us w^hen we have done right. But for 
it, duty could neither be know^n nor discharged. 
Without it, there could be no remorse for crime, 
and no feeling of approbation for having done a 
good thing. When properly cultivated, it comes 
in conflict with passion, and hushes its vile clam- 
ors. It gives strength to a high purpose, and con- 
firms a noble resolve. Conscience, properly edu- 
cated and faithfully obeyed, W'Ould place our 
young people on the highest plane occupied by 
refined and exalted humanity; vice and crime 
would disappear, while virtue and purity w^ould 
shine more brightly than the sun in heaven ; duty 



Conscience. 73 

would become the universal rule, and our youth 
of both sexes would move forward in its discharge 
with unfaltering steps. Then the gentle admoni- 
tions of the conscience would be heard above all 
the violence of passion and the cravings of appe- 
tite. It is to excite to the cultivation of this no- 
ble faculty that I write these lessons for the young 
people. An old man utters words of instruction 
and of warning to those whose path of life has 
just opened with so much brightness and beauty. 
It is a pleasing task to me to write these lessons to 
you young people who may feel disposed to listen 
to the words which well up in a heart by no means 
cold to any, but gushing with the deepest aifection, 
especially for you. When temptations assail, and 
pleasures attract; when the siren sings, or the ser- 
pent charms — then give a listening ear to the lov- 
ing words I send out to you from the brink on 
which I stand. Remember, I have traveled the 
path which you now tread, and have fought the 
battles in which you are now engaged. As an old 
soldier, about to take his armor off, let me warn 
you who have just put the armor on. Let me be- 
seech you, keep your conscience right. Do not 
sin against that. Watch against sin. Shun bad 
company. Listen to the softest whisper of the 



74 Our Young People. 

conscience. A good conscience will keep you al- 
ways happy. A youth with a good conscience is 
happier in a poor hut than one with a bad con- 
science in a palace. You may put such a one in a 
dungeon, you may cover him with rags, you may 
starve him by inches, you may shut him out from 
his parents, and still, as long as he knows he is 
right, he will be happy. Let me tell you of one 
who, all his life long, tried to keep a good con- 
science. 

He was opposed. He was persecuted. He was 
tied up and whipped until the blood trickled down 
his back, all torn and scarred. At last he was 
condemned to die. He was old and feeble. He 
looked out from his prison, and saw them making 
preparations for his death. It was a horrible 
death they were preparing for him. He was not 
alarmed, he w^as not sad. He never was so happy 
in all his life: he was going to die, but he was 
ready ; and while they were making ready he was 
writing, "I have fought a good fight, I have fin- 
ished my course, I have kept the faith. Hence- 
forth there is laid up for me a crown of righteous- 
ness, w^hich the Lord, the righteous judge, shall 
give me at that day." Then he shouted, "O 
death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy 



Conscience, 75 

victory?'' He had a good coDScience, and he 
did not feel the sting of death, nor dread the 
gloom of the grave. 

Many a man has had to die for his conscience. 
Come with me, and I will show you hoAV a sweet 
little girl died for her conscience. It was in old 
Rome, and more than eighteen hundred years ago. 
Now let us take our stand where we can see. She 
is to be torn by wild beasts. She is a Christian. 
A great many are here to witness the hungry lion, 
as he tears her tender flesh, and drinks her pure 
blood. Here we stand. There is a Roman Sena- 
tor; he is aged and dignified, and has come with 
us to witness the show. O what a show ! Nero 
the Emperor is here, scowding and frowning. Do 
you see that beautiful girl? She is not more than 
eighteen years old. She is calm and hopeful. 
Her dark eyes are bright as the evening star. A 
sweet smile plays over her gentle face. She walks 
with the grace of a queen. All is silence. Amid 
the thousands that look on not one word is spoken, 
except now and then, " How beautiful ! how inno- 
cent ! " Whispering, you ask me, " Why does she 
stand there all alone? and so beautiful." She is 
looking for the lion, that is lashing his cage with 
anger. In a moment he is let loose. Look ! he 



76 Our Young People. 

comes! She fears Dot; she stands erect. He hes- 
itates. The mild luster of her eye seems to awe 
the monarch of the forest. He crouches for a 
moment, and then makes his deadly spring. List- 
en, listen! She speaks: "Thanks be to God, that 
giveth me the victory ! I come, O Lord, I come ! " 
For conscience' .sake she dies, and for conscience' 
sake she goes to heaven. O my young friends, 
could you die that way for conscience' sake? 
Many a sweet maiden, many a noble boy, have 
died just in that way for the religion of Jesus. 

Be strong to stand by the right. Keep your 
couscience pure. Look straight forward. Turn 
not to the left or to the right. Keep yourselves 
free from all sin, and look to Him for grace to 
help you in every time of need. 



The Model Girl. 



THE MODEL GIRL. 



MY only aim in these lessons is to inspire our 
young people ^vith a love for the true, the 
beautiful, and the good. Nothing is so admirable 
in youth as moral excellence. It possesses charms 
which attract the wise and good, and which must 
in the end win the fairest and most enviable fame. 
Virtue must be rewarded with the approbation of 
the good of earth, and of the Father in heaven. 
Our young friends will allow us this lesson to prcT 
sent a picture of the model girl. 

She is not the vain and foolish child of Fashion. 
She is not a vapid devotee at the shrine of Pleasure 
— 2i gilded butterfly sipping nectar from every 
flow^er. Neither is she a follower of those who 
seek to occupy man's position, and who are forever 
clamoring for woman's rights. She has no ambi- 
tion to make a display at the bar, or to appear on 
the hustings. She is no candidate for office that 
exposes her to public gaze, or which requires her 
to unsex herself. She is modest. She is free from 
bold effrontery. The shrinkincr violet is the beau- 



78 Our Young People, 

tiful symbol of her character ; yet she is not un- 
necessarily timid. She is as free from awkward- 
ness as she is from forwardness. Modesty is that 
charming virtue which puts her at ease in all 
company; which never allows an unseemly atti- 
tude ; which frees her from false shame ; which se- 
cures dignity of conduct, and perfect composure 
of behavior. It prevents her from seeking the ad- 
miration of the other sex by making undue and 
improper advances, and still it does not cause her 
to hide herself when her company is sought. It 
combines dignity with grace, and elegance with 
ease of manner. It is ever respectful, and nevei 
rude. It looks up with reverence to the aged, is 
ever agreeable to equals, and always careful of the 
feelings of inferiors. No man loves an immodest 
woman. She may have intelligence, wealth, and 
beauty of person, but without modesty she cannot 
win the esteem of any man whose opinion is worth 
seeking. To modesty our model girl unites intel- 
ligence. She reads good books, and gains knowl- 
edge from all available sources. She receives 
much benefit from the ccnversation of intelligent 
people. She is a close observer of Nature, and 
gains inspiration from her beauties, and knowledge 
from her laws. She looks in upon herself, and 



The Model Girl. 79 

learns much from self-consciousness. She studies 
the characters with whom she associates, and thus 
becomes acquainted with human nature. She be- 
comes conversant with passing events by reading 
their current history in the newspapers. Thus her 
lips are not sealed when she enters society. She 
converses with becoming modesty, and yet with 
rare intelligence. Sh^ does not obtrude her opin- 
ions with forwardness, nor withhold them with 
foolish diffidence. Then the model girl is industri- 
ous. She is full of vital energy. She works with 
a will. Sloth is contemptible, and a lazy woman 
is intolerable ; she is a poor daughter, an unworthy 
sister, an indifferent scholar, an unpleasant visitor, 
and must make a sad wife and a miserable mother. 
It was said by Horace Greeley, in one of his attacks 
upon the South, that our women were entirely des- 
titute of energy, and that they spent their time in 
idle gossiping and filthy dipping. I never be- 
lieved this accusation to be just; on the contrary, 
I knew it to be false. The women of the South 
exhibited during the terrible Civil War not only 
the greatest self-denial, but the most untiring in- 
dustry. They took the carpets from their floors, 
and converted them into blankets for their soldier- 
brothers and husbands. They took the curtains 



80 Our Youxg People, 

from their windows, and made soldiers' shirts. 
They spun, and wove, and cut, and made into com- 
fortable suits, a famous "gray," w^hich distin- 
guished the Confederate soldier. Women unused 
to toil worked with almost unequaled industry to 
sustain a cause which they believed to be holy. 
They were found in the hospitals ministering with 
patriotic devotion to the wants of the sick and 
wounded soldier. I, a Southern man, can pay this 
just tribute to the women of this sunny land. 

I am sure there will be many readers of this 
volume who are willing to help their mothers in 
the duties of the domestic circle. Industry is a 
noble virtue. Energy moves the w^orld. Angels 
move on active wings to do the will of God. The 
model girl is up betimes, and, with ready heart 
and active hands, is helping in the work that 
makes home happy. 

Prudence is also one of the cardinal virtues of 
our model girl. She never gossips. She does not 
indulge in tale-bearing. She utters no slanders. 
She is not harsh in her judgments, uncharitable in 
her opinions, or violent in her expressions. She is 
not the terror of the neighborhood, because of the 
foolish and slanderous utterances w^hich are so de- 
structive of domestic peace. She does not cause 



The Model Girl. SI 

divisions, or produce jars. Like the rainbow, she 
is the symbol of peace, even when the storm is 
raging. Her mission is one of love, and she ful- 
fills it with the highest dignity and the noblest 
grace. Then she is amiable. She is the very em- 
bodiment of gentleness. Her spirit is lamb-like. 
She assimilates the dove. Her words are full of 
tenderness. She is not passionate. Anger is never 
a welcome guest to her bosom. Malice is never 
allowed admission to her heart. Wrath never 
clouds her brow, or fires her eye. Like God-given 
Charity, she thinketh no evil. She suSereth long, 
and is kind. She beareth all things, hopeth all 
things, endureth all things. 

The model girl is truthful. She is true to her 
parents. She obeys them with implicit confidence. 
She never deceives them. She is never guilty of 
an untruth. She indulges in no deception. She 
makes no false pretensions. A true woman is a 
boon to her husband, father, and brother; nay, 
more, a boon to society; worth more than count- 
less wealth. She is more precious than rubies. It 
is beyond the power of numbers to calculate her 
great worth. All can trust her, with the assurance 
that confidence w^ill never be misplaced, and never 
violated. She never plays the coquette. She 
6 



82 Our Young People, 

would not make a conquest at the expense of truth. 
True to her parents, to her friends, to her teach- 
ers, and to her God, she hates fraud, and scorns 
deceit. Dr. Green used to say that the sins of 
girls were peccadilloes, and that they would de- 
ceive on a small scale, and commit little frauds. 
But I say the true girl will not deceive on any 
scale, and will not be guilty of fraud in any grade. 
Truth is godlike; its origin is the bosom of the 
Eternal ; its destiny is immortality. 

Be it my task to extend a helping -hand, and 
to offer an encouraging word to our young people 
to be good, intelligent, honest, amiable, energetic, 
and true. Be it my joy to look upon those who 
have received from my tongue and pen, from my 
life and character, impressions as pure as inspira- 
tion from heaven, and as lasting as eternity. Be it 
my destiny, in the day of judgment, to say, "Here 
are the children Thou hast given me." 

The model girl is polite. She is never rude to 
any one. She would not be impolite to a tramp, 
or a beggar. She treats all with due respect. She 
seeks to put all persons at ease in her company. 
She makes no criticism on one who may happen to 
be out of fashion. She does not indulge in witti- 



The Model Girl. 83 

cisms at the expense of others. She does not whis- 
per to her near companion when others are in the 
room, lest they might think she is saying some- 
thing to their injury. She is never boisterous in 
company, as this would be exceedingly out of place 
in a modest girl. She avoids all slang phrases, 
such as "Good gracious!" "You bet," "Dry up," 
etc. Such expressions give evidence of coarse as- 
sociations, and might indicate a gross mind, if not 
a bad heart. She does not make herself the topic 
of conversation. She never parades her exploits 
before the public ; and especially is she too mod- 
est to attempt an exhibition of her learning. She 
may be, and probably is, superior to others of the 
company in extent and variety of reading, and in 
high, intellectual culture, but she has not the van- 
ity to make a boast of such superiority. She does 
not intrude upon those who may be engaged in 
conversation which they may seem unwilling for 
her to hear. She is no eavesdropper, and shuns 
with assiduous care all intermeddling with any 
affairs that do not concern her. She has heard of 
the man who made a fortune by attending to his 
own business, and she greatly profited by his exam- 
ple. When another is speaking, she avoids inter- 
rupting him, and feels that it would be a rudeness 



84 On? Yorxcr People. 

almost unpardonable in a young person to contra- 
diet a gentleman or lady who might happen to 
lack entire accuracy in a statement, or who might 
be somewliat awkward in the use of language. 
Even when she is unable to comply with the request 
of a friend, she says ^' No" with so much ease and 
grace, with so much deference and kindness of 
manner, as to prevent any unpleasant feelings on 
the part of the person to whom the refusal is given. 
She shows her politeness, as well as her firmness of 
character, when she is thus compelled to say "No/' 
and, instead of giving offense, really excites admi- 
ration for her gentle firmness and rare elegance. 
She never does any thing on the street to attract 
attention — polite people never do. She is courte- 
ous to all in passing, and gives one side of the walk 
to the humblest pedestrian. She walks gracefully, 
and attracts attention even by her gait. Like Mil- 
ton's heroine, she has grace in all her steps, and iu 
every gesture dignity and love. Dio Lewis says that 
the girl who carries her chin well — that is, close to 
her neck — is all right from top to toe, and sure to 
walk wtII. Then the head will be erect, the shoul- 
ders back, and the chest full. In such manner does 
the model girl walk — not in a pompous and afiected 
way, but naturally, unatlectedly, and gracefully. 



The Model Girl. 85 

At Church the behavior of the model girl is 
most exemplary. She is punctual, because she 
neither wishes to attract attention, nor disturb oth- 
ers. She never enters the house of God with such 
a clatter as to interfere with the solemnity of the 
occasion, or the sacredness of the house. She is 
attentive to the services of the sanctuary, and con- 
forms her conduct to the usages of the worshiping 
congregation. She shows no impatience, though 
the services may be long, or even without interest. 
She avoids any restlessness that might indicate she 
cared nothing for divine service. Her Avhole con- 
duct at Church is grave and dignified, and exhib- 
its the good breeding of an accomplished lady. If 
possible, she joins in all the exercises, and is sure to 
listen wdth attention to the preaching of the word. 
She would not interrupt a concert or a lecture by 
any noisy behavior; much less would she prevent 
any person from enjoying all the benefits of relig- 
ious service by even a nod, a wink, a gesture, or 
a grimace. In a word, the model girl governs all 
her conduct in social life by the Golden Rule. She 
does unto others as she would have others do unto 
her. Like a perfect lady, as she is, she carries 
sunshine w^herever she goes. She sheds radiance 
along every path, and fills all hearts with gladness 



86 Our Young People. 

by the purity of her character, the elegance of her 
manners, and the sweetness of her disposition. To 
her parents she is an example of filial devotion. 
Her obedience is cheerful, and her spirit is beau- 
tifully submissive to their will. She forms no alli- 
ances, and makes no engagements, without first 
consulting them. They are her best and wisest 
friends, and she knows it. She is not ashamed of 
them because they may have old-fashioned ways. 
She feels that disrespect to parents is direct sin 
against God. She remembers the first command- 
ment with promise — "Honor thy father and thy 
mother, that thy days may be long in the land 
which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Said a 
mother to her son, "William, give your poor 
mother a drink of water ; I am so sick." " I won't 
do it," said the boy. That was the very last re- 
quest that William's mother ever made of her boy. 
That night she died. When he awoke the next 
morning, he was told his mother was dead. He 
wept until his eyes were red, and his face was 
swollen ; but all his weeping could not recall his 
last words to his poor, sick mother. He repented, 
and years after he said he would give all that he 
was worth if he could recall that one expression, 
"I won't." 



The Model Gmi. 87 

The model girl will never have to weep over 
such language, for she is never guilty of such cruel 
conduct. It is pleasant to see with what delight 
she meets her father, weary and worn with the bus- 
iness of the day, and how tenderly she waits upon 
her feeble, sick mother. I have known some girls 
who seemed to think it beautiful to be curt and dis- 
respectful to their parentSo Such girls glory in 
their shame. They will make as poor wives as they 
have been disobedient daughters. I have never 
known a naughty daughter who became a good 
wife, or made her husband happy. 

Above all, the model girl is pious. She loves 
the Bible. She honors God. She delights in the 
Sabbath-school. She promotes every good cause. 
She is faithful to the Church. Like Mary, she is 
found close to the cross. She would not dishonor 
it for the world. She clings to it with holy fervor 
In all society, at all times, in all places, she bears 
about her the spirit of the humble Nazarene. It 
is His religion that has made her a model girl, 
and to it she looks as the last, best hope of her 
fallen race. 



88 Our Young People. 



INFLUENCE. 



BY iDfluence is meant the power to produce re- 
sults. Every human being, possessed of or- 
dinary intelligence and will, desires to exercise 
this power. He wishes to lead. He desires to 
have others do according to his views, and become 
subservient to his wishes. The boy sees a magnet 
placed among little bits of iron, and he watches 
these small particles as they gather round the mag- 
net, and fasten themselves to it, as though drawn 
to it by a vital force. Then he says : " What a 
power in this magnet ! Would that I could draw 
all the boys around me, and make them hang to 
me, and depend upon me, just as these iron filings 
are drawn to the magnet." This desire to wield 
influence is not only natural and instinctive, but 
is praiseworthy when properly guarded and con- 
trolled. I do not believe that any one, however 
lowly and destitute, can be found altogether with- 
out influence. All have some power. The child 
in its mother's arms begins to exercise influence 
with the first smile that plays over its innocent 



Influence. 89 

face. With its first cooings it thrills the mother's 
heart with a new and holy joy. The first step that 
the child takes, and the first word it tries to speak, 
produce a thrill of pleasure which only parents 
can appreciate, and which can hardly be overrated. 
Good children are the greatest blessings which can 
bring happiness and joy to any home. They are 
more precious than rubies. It is no marvel that 
the noble Roman matron declined showing her 
jewels to her wealthy visitor, who had been boast- 
ing of some rare and costly diamonds, until her 
two little boys came home from school ; then, point- 
ing to her children, she said these immortal words : 
*^ Here are my jewels." Her boys were her most 
beautiful ornaments. They were the light and joy 
of the household. They gave to her home its 
sw^eetest attractions. Their influence w^as sweeter 
than the fragrance of rarest flowers — than the 
odor of costly ointment poured forth. 

Such is always the influence of intelligent, lov- 
ing, and obedient children. I doubt whether any 
writer has ever yet presented in all its force, and 
with sufficient moral emphasis, the influence of chil- 
dren. The Master showed his appreciation of child- 
hood when he said, "SuflTer the little children to 
come unto me/' The scribes and Pharisees showed 



90 Our Young People. 

their dread of this wonderful influence when the chil- 
dren accompanied the blessed Jesus with scattered 
flowers, and loud shouts of^ "Hosannal blessed is 
he that cometh in the name of the Lord." Kobert 
Eaikes showed the wonderful influence of children 
when he gathered them into the Sunday-schools to 
be instructed in the great interests of virtue and 
religion. The great movements of this age illus- 
trate this great truth. No scenes of earthly beauty 
can equal that which glows in the shining faces of 
a hundred children gathered in the house of the 
Lord. No music that pours forth from band or 
orchestra can rival in sweetness, in attractiveness, 
and in power, the melody of Sunday-school songs 
as sung by large and well-trained gatherings of 
w^ell-instructed children. Nothing has given such an 
impulse to sacred song, and nothing has given such 
an impetus to Bible-study, as the millions of chil- 
dren, who are not only girdling the globe with 
their vast numbers, but are actually moving the 
world as their little feet patter to the Sunday- 
school. It is the influence of the children that has 
opened China to the power of the gospel. It is to 
childhood that the self-denying missionary looks 
with hope and joy. It is from the children that 
Christianity has gathered, and is still gathering, 



I:S[FLUENCE, 91 

its richest trophies. It is to the children of the 
present generation that we look for the future 
glory of the Church, and for the continued honor 
and progress of the country. It is from the chil- 
dren we must raise up the men who must fill our 
pulpits, make our laws, write our books, marshal 
our armies, teach our schools, edit our papers, gov- 
ern our States, and fashion the destinies of the 
race. The little girl now reads this lesson who is 
to be a ministering angel w^hen pain and anguish 
wring the brow ; who is to be a Florence Nightin- 
gale in the ministration of mercy ; a Mrs. Somer- 
ville in the investigation of science; a Hannah 
More in the paths of literature; or a Mrs. Judson 
in carrying the gospel of peace to those who are 
still sitting in the region and shadow of death. 
The little boy is now listening to his mother or 
sister reading this lesson who is to control senators, 
like Webster or Clay ; or lead armies, like Wash- 
ington or Lee; or make discoveries, like Newton 
or Kepler ; or produce investigations, like Watt or 
Fulton ; or preach, like Bascom or Summerfield, 
Spurgeon or Chalmers. 

It is to rouse every young person to an appreci- 
ation of his or her power that I send out this lit- 
tle volume. It is to your individual influence that 



92 Our Youxg People. 

I wish to direct your attention. It is your influ- 
ence that must make home dark or bright, happy 
or wretched. It is your influence which will either 
make your parents melt in love, rejoice in hope, or 
hang their heads in shame. I have seen a wretched 
father almost speechless with agony, because of the 
wicked and disgraceful conduct of a loved son. I 
have seen a mother writhing in anguish, because 
of the ruin of her daughter, w^ho had wilted like 
a blighted flower under the polluting touch of vile 
and sinful passions. I have seen a mother broken- 
hearted, and a father, with all the strength of a 
noble manhood, giving way under the fearful blows 
administered by an ungrateful child. The bland- 
ishments of fortune, the glorious tide of prosper- 
ity, the deep interest which belong to other chil- 
dren, were all lost sight of by the conduct of a 
fallen child. It has seemed to me that I have 
seen the wretched son with one hand on the ten- 
der, loving heart of his mother, and the other in 
the gray hairs of his father, as he was dragging 
them both down, down to the grave ; while by 
these parents the grave was looked to as the only 
resting-place for their woes, brought upon them by 
an influence as dark as it should have been bright, 
and as sad as it should have been iovful. 



IXFLUEXCF. 93 

Do not say you have no influence. It was a lit- 
tle maid that saved the Syrian captain, Naaman 
the leper. It was a little boy that astonished the 
doctors and lawyers by his wonderful wisdom, 
when he was only twelve years old. Not long ago 
a little boy saved the lives of all the passengers in 
a train, by giving the information of the falling 
of a bridge during the night. A sweet little girl, 
well known to me, brought by her own influence 
an entire family into the possession of our holy re- 
ligion. You have influence, and, what is more, 
you are responsible for its proper exercise. Wield 
your influence in the cause of the right, and heav- 
en has no crown too bright, no reward too high, for 
you. Much of your influence is unconsciously ex- 
ercised. Every act is potent with influence, every 
word streams with influence. Your whole charac- 
ter sends out from every trait a world of influ- 
ence. You could not prevent it if you would. An 
enthusiastic philosopher said, "If I had only a 
place on which to rest my fulcrum, I could raise 
the world wdth my lever.'' Your influence is the 
lever, and your character the fulcrum ; and now I 
bid you raise the world. Yes, young friends, raise 
the world to the heights of virtue, to the lofty 
plane of truth and temperance, of righteousness 



94 Our Young People. 

and peace. By your influence you can kindle an 
influence whose radiance shall embrace both poles, 
and encompass the world. By your influence you 
can send out a whisper of love and truth which 
shall be heard all along the ages to come. Where 
Virtue calls, do you follow. Where Duty de- 
mands, do you obey. Meet your responsibility. 
Reach forward to a grander conception of moral 
powder than you have ever had before. Rise in the 
dignity of a great character, and realize the work 
that is before the young people of the South. Be 
assured that influence cannot die. It is immortal. 
None of the great and good of other ages are 
dead. They never die ; they have two immortali- 
ties — one on earth, and one in heaven. Influence 
is immortal below, the lofty soul is immortal above. 
Wherever the path of truth and virtue, of justice 
and honor, opens, enter it, and follow it. Make 
your influence for good felt in all the channels, 
and along all the currents, of social life. Help 
the Sabbath-school. Aid the temperance cause. 
Fight the battle for the right, on and on, until 
every enemy shall be vanquished, and God and 
victory be ever in the ascendant. Let your influ- 
ence be felt in the grasp of friendship, the look of 
purity, and the word of truth. Lift your banner 



Influence. 



95 



to the skies, and never let it trail in th^ dust. 
Stand by the right until your influence, sweet as 
the breath of Spring, glorious as the orb of day, 
benignant as the love of God, shall touch every 
chord of human nature, and move every spring of 
human action to the right, the true, and the good. 




96 Our Young People. 



DEAD FLIES. 



THE strongest presentations of truth are found 
in the Bible. It may be expressed in homely 
phrase, or be partially concealed under an obscure 
figure ; but when understood, it necessarily leaves 
its impress deep and strong. Such is the manner 
of its presentation in the passage in Ecclesiastes : 
" Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary 
to send forth a stinking savor.'' The rich and 
costly ointment of the apothecary, kept in a mag- 
nificent vase, and sending forth the sweetest odors, 
is to represent character. To any one understand- 
ing how highly such perfumes were valued by the 
ancients, and at what almost fabulous prices they 
were purchased, the figure is at once striking and 
beautiful. No human possession is so valuable as 
the character. A good name is precious, but char- 
acter — the real, present condition of the man him- 
self — is infinitely more valuable. It is beyond all 
price. It is w^orth more than numbers can calcu- 
late, or language express. Then, as the character 
can and does suffer from small vices or little fol- 



Dead Flies, 97 

lies, it is like the ointment spoiled by a dead fly. 
Now, my young readers, understand me. The 
costly ointment represents the priceless character; 
the dead flies which ruin the sweet perfume, and 
cause it to send forth stinking odors, illustrate 
those vices which mar the beauty and destroy the 
sweetness of an otherwise excellent character. 

Here is a boy who is generous and truthful, but 
he is rude. He is noisy and forward in company. 
He is rough and unpleasant in his manners. Now. 
his rudeness is a dead fly in the ointment. It mars 
the beauty of his character. It is hard to love 
such a boy. He lacks politeness. He seems not 
to know how to behave himself. He talks louder 
than any one else. He tries to show off* even his 
truthfulness in a blunt w^ay, so as to be offensive. 
He does not hesitate to contradict his older broth- 
ers and sisters, or even his parents, if he thinks 
they are in the wrong. He is sincere, he is hon- 
est ; he would be as far from telling a falsehood as 
any boy you can find ; but he is so disagreeable to 
company that he is like the ointment with dead 
flies. He makes every one feel unpleasant when 
in his company. He sends out around him an in- 
fluence like the smell of the dead flies in the oint- 
ment. Here is another boy who has many good 



98 OuB Young People, 

traits of character, but he exaggerates every thing; 
he tells nothing as it exactly is : he tells you that he 
almost dies laughing — that he was frozen to death — 
that the weather was the hottest, the coldest. Every 
thing is in the superlative degree. He is like the 
young preacher whose presiding elder went to him, 
and said, " My dear brother, be more prudent in 
your speech; govern your tongue; do not speak so 
extravagantly ; it is injuring your usefulness. I beg 
you to speak with more caution, or you will ruin 
yourself." The young preacher was much affected, 
even to tears, and exclaimed with a sob, "I know 
it, I am sorry for it, and have already shed a thou- 
sand bushels of tears over it.'' The elder smelt a 
dead fly then. He felt that his young preacher 
would have to work hard and long before he could 
get that fly out of his ointment. I ask you, chil- 
dren, to look into your ointment, and see if you 
have any fly like this in it. 

Girls have dead flies sometimes. They will tat- 
tle, and whisper, and gossip, if they are not on 
their guard. The habit of telling tales to the in- 
jury of any one is one of the worst that a little 
girl or a young lady can have. There lived in a 
neighborhood through which I passed, many years 
ago, old Sister Longtongue. People said she was 



Dead Flies. 99 

tongue-tied— that her tongue was tied in the mid- 
dle, and loose at both ends. She was never satis- 
fied if she was not getting up a fuss. She was 
constantly making trouble among the neighbors. 
Really, everybody was glad when she died. She 
had such a horrid dead fly in her ointment she was 
never w^elcome, and people were always glad when 
she was gone. 

Now, girls, take warning from old Madam Long- 
tongue. Never run about among your young 
friends, and tell tales. Solomon says that a tale- 
bearer separateth chief friends, and when the tale- 
bearer is gone strife ceaseth. 

High temper is a dead fly that will spoil the 
very best ointment ; that is, a child may have 
ever so many noble qualities, and they are all 
spoiled by a quick, irritable temper. Bad-tem- 
pered folks are a terror to all that know them. 
If they are peevish, and constantly fretting from 
morning till night, they are like a drizzling rain. 
The rain drizzles, drizzles, all day long, and makes 
you afraid to go down town, or even put your head 
outside the door. So is one that is always fretting, 
scolding, and finding fault. Said a little boy to 
his father, "Papa, is grandpa going to heaven?" 
"Yes,'' said the father, "I hope so." "Well, I 



100 Our Young People. 

don't want to go there, then." "Why, my son?" 
*^ Because grandpa scolds so much; he is in a fret 
from morning till night, and I do n't want to go to 
heaven with grandpa." It is bad in an old man 
to scold and fret, but it is much worse in a little 
boy. We do not expect children to have a frown 
or a scowl on their faces all the time, nor any of 
the time. But there is another kind of high tem- 
per. It is terrible. It storms and rages. If the 
first is like a drizzly day, this is like a day of storm. 
It thunders, it lightens. It not only keeps all in- 
doors, but in a state of fright all the time. I knew 
a man once whose children would run like rats to 
their holes when he would get into one of these 
towering passions. Everybody had to stand around 
then. He was like a volcano pouring out floods 
of flame. His wife grew pale, and his children 
hid themselves with dread. Such were the out- 
bursts of temper that made him a terror to his 
family. This was a dead fly that spoiled the oint- 
ment. You girls, of course, never get into such a 
fit of bad temper. Boys, I beg you, guard against 
it. I have known more than one boy to make his 
life miserable by giving way to a terrible temper. 
There is another dead fly we will call selfish- 
ness. It makes the character cold. It dries up 



Dead Flies, 101 

the milk of human kindness. It is unsocial. It 
seeks solitude. A boy that is selfish will eat his 
candy all alone. He will have little to do with 
other boys. He cares for nobody, and nobody 
cares for him. He would not give up his seat in 
the car to an old man trembling on the brink of 
the grave. He would allow his old grandmother 
to stand, and he would occupy his seat. He has 
no desire to accommodate any one. He is like 
Ishmael, his hands are against everybody. He is 
stingy. He puts very few nickels in the box when 
the collection is taken up. When he gets to be a 
man he will be miserly. He will be ready to coin 
his blood into money. He will clutch, and hoard, 
and cheat, and rob, if he can only save himself 
from the punishment of the law. He is a surly 
fellow. He is like the old Greek philosopher who 
lived in a tub : he wants no companion. He is 
like the cur that occupied the manger of the ox : 
he will neither eat the hay, nor allow the ox to 
eat it. 

Laziness is another dead fly. It is stupid and 
dull. It makes no improvement. It stands still 
when duty calls. The lazy man sleeps while oth- 
ers work, and starves while others thrive. The 
lazy woman is known by her dress, by the way she 



102 Our Young People, 

keeps her house, and by the way her husband 
goes. A lazy girl never has a good lesson, never 
writes a good composition, never rises in the school, 
and only attracts attention by her lack of neat- 
ness or by her great dullness. Lazy children are 
always behind. They get to the Sabbath-school 
after song and prayer, and during the week they 
are tardy half the time. 

But I will not hunt up any more dead flies. I 
have explained the text so that you all understand 
it. I want now to show you a character that has 
not in it, that never had in it, any dead flies. It 
is like the precious ointment that ran down upon 
the beard of Aaron. It is like the dew upon the 
mown grass. It is like unsullied snow upon the 
top of the mountain. It is like the sparkling dia- 
mond in the crown of the king. It is pure and 
gentle, honest and truthful, blameless and strong. 
It has no bad appearance, no dead flies. It sends 
out no bad odors. It is beautiful as the light of 
heaven, and sweeter than the summer roses. The 
sun itself is not so free from spots, and does not 
shine with a clearer light. In earth there is noth- 
ing so beautiful, and in heaven nothing so attract- 
ive. It forms the basis of God's eternal throne, 
and is the strength of his scepter. It is more 



Dead Flies, 



103 



precious than rubies, and all else that can be de- 
sired is not equal to it. Tirae cannot waste it 
away — it will flourish through eternal years. Mis- 
fortune cannot harm it; and Slander, base and 
wicked as it is, can do it no real injury. It will 
stand the fires that wdll burn up the world, and 
will rise bright and beautiful in the midst of uni- 
versal ruin. Be such as this. Bat one perfect 
character has lived as a human being in this 
world of sin. He tells you to be like Him. Rise 
to this high example. Make yourself strong in 
His likeness, and devoted to His fear. 



lOi Our Young People. 



EXAMPLES OF WARNING AND 
EN CO URA GEMENT. 



DURING a life of sixty years, I have had pass 
before me many examples of both failure 
and success, some of which I desire to give in this 
paper. The facts stated may be relied on as true, 
and each will carry with it its own moral. I have 
just read of the death of a man whom I knew well. 
He was learned, he was active, and industrious. 
He was gifted as an orator, and made most power- 
ful speeches. He was first a Roman Catholic 
priest, then a Methodist preacher, then an Episco- 
palian, then a lawyer, and then a Roman Catholic 
again; and last of all, a suicide. He died by his 
own hands, after directing his body to be buried 
with the burial of an ass, outside the walls of the 
city. He lacked principle. He wanted firmness. 
He was destitute of a high aim, and hence his ruin. 
I knew a preacher once who acquired great fame. 
He was eloquent. He w^as popular. He had the 
finest church and the finest congregation. He w^as 
honored by every one. His pulpit was the most 



Wabning and Encouragement. 105 

attractive of any in the city. He received the 
largest salary. His people feasted him. He said 
he could hardly accept the invitations that were 
given him to attend social parties, to eat fine sup- 
pers and magnificent dinners. He lacked integ- 
rity ; he wanted principle ; he yielded to ap|)etite. 
He w^as guilty of lying. He confessed he had lied 
to conceal his shame. His sin found him out; he 
was banished from the pulpit, expelled from the 
Church, and sunk in disgrace. The child that is 
guilty of deception, that is dishonest, that cannot 
resist temptation, that has no fixed principles, will 
bring woe to his family, and ruin and disgrace to 
himself. 

I once had a schoolmate — the smartest in the 
school — but he had no principle. He was dishon- 
est. He became a horse -thief before he w^as 
twenty-one years of age. He w^as often the in- 
mate of a public prison. At last he ended his life 
on the gallows, a convicted murderer. 

Now I will tell you of James and Joseph, who 
were at college at the same time, and belonged to 
the same class. Joseph was cautious in his move- 
ments, and prudent in his speech. James was 
quick, impulsive, and often rash. They were botli 
preachers, both zealous, both sincere. James was 



106 Our Young People, 

eloquent, full of fine figures, and abounding in 
original and striking thought. Joseph was a plod- 
der. He had a poor imagination. His command 
of language was not great. He hesitated. His 
thoughts were commonplace. His style was not 
attractive. James flamed like a comet. He filled 
you with w^onder. He soared on high. You 
would say, " I never heard such eloquence from a 
3^oung man." His voice had great compass and 
great sweetness. On the other hand, Joseph kept 
near the earth. He never soared. His voice was 
weak, and his manner tame. All said, "James is 
a genius. He w^ill equal Bascom. He will be 
numbered with the greatest men in the land." 
They left college at the same time, and then their 
courses diverged. James became dissatisfied. He 
did not rise fast enough. The ministry did not 
pay. He turned lawyer. He got into difficulties 
with his brethren. He was tried in the Church, 
became discouraged, sunk into poverty, lost his 
great name, and died suddenly in early manhood, 
a disappointed, unhappy man. He lacked consist- 
ency. He wanted firmness. He was a failure. 
Joseph still lives. His career has not been brill- 
iant, but it has been useful. He has gone on the 
even tenor of his way, making mankind better by 



Waening and Encoubagement, 107 

his Christian character and example. He was 
firm to his principles. He had a purpose, and he 
carried it out. He had an aim, and he pursued it. 
Loved and honored, he still lives to bless society 
by his words of wisdom and acts of goodness. 
Without the lofty genius of his classmate, and ut- 
terly destitute of his great powers of oratory, he 
has done more for the Master and for man, more 
to exalt the one and glorify the other, than most 
men of his age. 

And now I will tell you of two others, that I 
will name Robert and William respectively. They 
too were classmates at college. They were about 
equal in intellect and in learning. Kobert was 
a man of strong mind and great stubbornness of 
will. He was violent in his feelings, and often 
gave way to hate in its worst form. His early life 
had been spent wdth degraded men and worthless 
women. He was suspicious of every one. He 
had but little confidence in man, and less in 
woman. Not right himself, he thought all others 
were wrong. He continued to indulge his hatred 
to man until he left all decent society. He shut 
himself out from the world, in a miserable den, 
and spent his life in cursing man and denying 
God. His countenance became distorted by pas- 



108 Our Young People, 

sioD. His whole soul was turned to bitterness. If 
a friend approached him, he would order him from 
his presence. He seemed to thirst for human 
blood. He was a man-hater ; yea, worse, a woman- 
hater; and still worse than that, he hated God, 
and denied his existence. In his rage he said, 
"There is no God." He had mind and force of 
character enough to have adorned any circle, but 
he lacked nobleness of purpose. He was destitute 
of charity, gentleness. Christian faith; and he 
died a most wretched death, denouncing in his 
last moments all that was good in man, pure in 
woman, and true in religion. William was alto- 
gether different. He was a Christian. He had 
faith in man, and still more faith in God. He 
studied the profession of the bar. He rose by slow 
degrees. He had trial, poverty, opposition, mis- 
fortune, all to contend with. He labored; he 
prayed; he was consistent. His principle never 
cowered. His aim was high. He began to pros- 
per. He did not become vain or foolish. The more 
he prospered, the more humble he grew. He mar- 
ried young. His marriage was happy. His wife 
loved him, and his children almost adored him. 
He was active in the Church, taught in the Sab- 
bath-school, was benevolent, and rose to the head 



Warning and Encouragement, 109 

of his profession, a grand and good man. He 
never did a mean thing. He was never vindic- 
tive. He always acted from principle. He moved 
in his community as the wisest and best of men. 
Happy at home in the bosom of a refined and ele- 
gant family, happy in the Church that honored 
him as one of her noblest sons, and happy in the 
community which he adorned by his talents and 
virtues, he w^as a living example of the power of 
solid principles to build up a grand character. 

I have told you these two tales, my dear children, 
to impress you with this great truth : Neither genius, 
nor learning, nor eloquence, nor force of charac- 
ter, can give you perfect success. You must be 
true to God, and true to yourselves, if you expect 
to bring honor to him, or gain any lasting success. 
All can be good. All cannot be great. You may 
not win fame ; you may not rise to high position ; 
but if truth be the foundation, and truth the very 
essence and fabric of your character, you must, you 
will, succeed. All good men will honor the noble 
boy who is guided by truth, as the mariner is 
guided by the polar star. This star never sets ; it 
is never obscured. It sheds its mellow light alike 
amid the darkness of night and the brightness of 
day, alike amid clouds as amid the beauties of a 



no 



Our Young People, 



cloudless sky. Then follow truth as the wise men 
of the East followed the star of Bethlehem, and 
it will stand at last over the head of Christ, crown- 
ing him with glory and honor. 



Human Destiny. Ill 



HUMAN DESTINY.'' 



IT is easy to determine the destiny of any object 
by a close examination of its qualities. Man's 
intellect indicates his destiny to be knowledge, his 
sensibilities indicate it to be happiness, while his 
conscience declares it to be goodness. So that, 
taking all his faculties, we perceive him to be des- 
tined for knowledge, happiness, and virtue. 

He is free to work out his destiny, or pervert 
it by waywardness and neglect — free to acquire 
knowledge, to cultivate his feelings, and purify his 
conscience : he, to a very large extent, determines 
his own destiny. Believing this to be the truth, 
I have thought the occasion of your graduation, 
so interesting and so important to you, would be a 
fit one on which to present such considerations as 
might encourage to the accomplishment of a des- 
tiny such as your nature indicates, and as God will 
approve. You can be intelligent. Already you 
have made encouraging progress in knowledge. 

■^Baccalaureate Address delivered to the Graduating 
Class of Martin Female College, Pulaski, Tenn., 1878. 



112 Our Young People. 

You have studied the structure of your own lan- 
guage, the philosophy of mind and morals, the 
great facts of natural history, the principles of mo- 
lecular and atomic action, the difference between 
organic and inorganic matter, the science of the 
heavenly bodies, the physiology of vegetable and 
animal life, the progress of literature, philosophy, 
and science, through the lapse of nearly thirty 
centuries; and the history of our race, both an- 
cient and modern. You have also been introduced 
into the mysteries of mathematical science, and 
have learned different periods of calculation, as 
peculiar to arithmetic, algebra, geometry, and trig- 
onometry. Still, there are many fields to be ex- 
plored, and your present knowledge is to be en- 
larged, matured, and perfected. You are to keep 
abreast of the age. You are not to sink down 
into mental inactivity. You are not to allow your 
present acquirements to waste by inertness, or 
weaken by sloth. You are to press forward to 
higher attainments, and to secure a still more ad- 
vanced intellectual culture. It is one of the high- 
est attributes of mind that it is designed for per- 
petual growth. Progress is its great law. It must 
neither falter nor weaver. It cannot be stationary. 
It must change from glory to glory, from light to 



Human Destiny. 113 

still greater light, or it must sink into grosser ig- 
norance or more palpable darkness. While all 
the faculties of the intellect indicate that man 
should rise to intelligence, nine-tenths of our race 
make no advance in knowledge. One-half that 
enter our colleges fail to pursue the path of knowl- 
edge, and turn to other fields, and employ their 
energies, if they have any, in some other direction. 
The hill of science is too steep, and its ascent be- 
comes irksome. To study becomes a task from 
which sloth turns away in disgust. And of those 
who continue their scholastic course to graduation, 
not one-third keep up the knowledge with which 
they graduate. In a few years Latin and Greek 
become as strange almost as Sanskrit, and litera- 
ture and science are forgotten. While the college- 
course has not been without its value, yet many of 
its benefits are lost by a listless inactivity w^hicli 
forbids progress, and prevents growth. If you 
would reach the destiny designed by your Creator, 
you must take no step backward, you must not loi- 
ter along the w^ay, you must aspire to lofty attain- 
ments, and you must carry out that aspiration by 
an ever-living, ever-active energy. A certain great 
orator w^as once asked, "What is the first great 
attribute of an orator?" He answered, "Action." 
8 



114 Our Young People, 

"The second?'^ "Action.'^ "The third?'' The 
answer was, "Action.'' Were I asked for the first 
great attribute of a scholar, I w^ould answer, Ac- 
tion; and the second and the third would also be. 
Action. Inaction is death. Sloth is ruin. I 
would prefer action to genius. It is higher than 
fame. It is more precious than priceless wealth. 
It is hardness to the muscles, strength to the nerves, 
vigor to the intellect, life to the conscience, and 
the hope of the race. It rises to all heights, and 
fathoms all depths. It moves on tireless wings 
along all the paths of human thought. It is ap- 
palled by no difficulties, and discouraged by no 
obstacles. It breasts the storm, and defies the rag- 
ing tempest. It has wrested the scepter from Ju- 
piter, and taken the magic w^and from Mercury. 
It disarms the terrible god of war, and discontin- 
ues the sacrifices upon the altar of Bacchus. It 
has deprived thirty thousand Grecian deities of 
their crowns, and broken all the images in the 
Pantheon. It has caught the lightning from the 
clouds, and gathered gold and silver from the 
mines. It has deprived witchcraft of its terror, 
and pagan superstition of its victims. It has 
chased away the darkness of ignorance, and illu- 
minated the world with a moral light whose glory 



Human Destiny. 115 

surpasses the sun in heaven. It has subdued the 
earth, and given man dominion over the land and 
the sea. It is the glory of man, and the charm of 
the gentler sex. It is the heritage of the race, 
and conies much more as a blessing than as a 
curse. Do not think of a bed of roses. Do not 
anticipate a life of inglorious ease. The world is 
moving, great principles are rousing the nations, 
the car of progress has gained a fresh impulse, and 
the earth shakes beneath the rapid revolutions of 
its mighty wheels. Will you sit down in idleness, 
and not join the vast procession whose firm and 
active step is a prophecy of the millennial dawn ? 
If you would rise above mediocrity, your work of 
intellectual advancement is but just begun. You 
have but just reached the shore on which Newton 
gathered his pebbles. The great ocean of knowl- 
edge lies out before you. To sail out on that ocean 
demands an earnestness of endeavor and a perse- 
verance of energy which no difficulties can dis- 
courage. But intelligence is not alone your des- 
tiny. 

The highest faculty of your nature teaches every 
observer that your destiny is the highest moral ex- 
cellence. If there is any truth in the testimony 
of universal consciousness, then has the great Au- 



116 Our Young People, 

thor of your being designed you more for exalted 
virtue, for perfection of moral character, for free- 
dom from the stains of sin, than for any other one 
thing. If woman is not good, she is a monster. 
Whatever be her intellectual attainments, she sinks 
to the lowest level of depraved humanity the very 
moment she loses that moral equipoise which keeps 
her properly balanced, and prevents her utter deg- 
radation. I would have you polished and bright 
in intellect ; but more than this, I would have you 
all stainless and pure. Let no impure thought 
take possession of the intellect, and no sinful pas- 
sion nestle in the heart. Cultivate all the virtues, 
both active and passive. Be just, and fear not. 
Stand firm, and be strong. Cultivate strength of 
character. A strong character, whether in man 
or woman, is sublime. It breasts the storm of pas- 
sion, and drives back the tide of evil, which threat- 
ens the destruction of society. In the elevation- 
of a moral standard, I have looked more to woman 
than to man. At home, in the domestic circle, she 
moves a queen. From her home she gives out an 
influence silent as the dew, and powerful as the 
influences which wheel the world, and pure and 
sweet as the fragrance wafted by spicy breezes. 
She is sunshine amid the tempest, and her influ- 



Human Destiny. 117 

ence is the rainbow that arches the darkest cloud. 
A good woman, refined in her manners, pure in 
her speech, benevolent in her conduct, and fault- 
less in her principles, is at once the light of home, 
and the joy of all its inmates. Home is not home 
without woman, pure and good ; and where there 
is no home, patriotism dies, purity sickens, justice 
decays, benevolence ceases, and the land mourns. 
No evil is comparable to the corruption of female 
character. Famine and pestilence, war and an- 
archy, may bring dismay and horror, and may 
sweep over the land until a wail of w^oe hushes 
every sound of laughter and mirth ; but all this, 
and more, can be borne, rather than the blight 
of female virtue, and the utter blasting of femalo 
loveliness. This night, as you receive the honors 
of Martin College, and set out afresh in the battle 
of life, determine to pursue the right, to move 
straight forward with the zeal of God's approba- 
tion on your brow, and his ineffaceable image on 
your heart. Never falter for one moment, but 
with a strong determination give your whole influ- 
ence for every cause that will bless man and honor 
God. Seize every opportunity to speak or act for 
every righteous cause. Do not mind the world's 
dread lau^rh. Care not for the scorn of the fool- 



118 Our Young People. 

ish, or the scoff of the heartless. The fear of of- 
fending against the fashions of the day should not 
even retard, much less prevent, the acquisition of 
the highest virtue. A corrupt public opinion has 
deterred many from entering the field of moral 
culture, and battling bravely and perseveringly 
for the right. The dread of being laughed at as 
singular has robbed the world of many a hero in 
the strife. From the depths of my inner nature I 
honor a woman who can dare oppose a fashion 
which is corrupt in its influence, and which leads 
its votaries to perdition. A woman who can set 
her face as flint against drinking parties, who can 
oppose with all the might of omnipotent truth 
round dances, and all their foul brood of vices, 
rises to a height of greatness rarely attained by 
the daughters of the nineteenth century. A 
woman — a true woman — must have the nerve to 
resist all the seductive influences of insincere and 
heartless fashionable life. A woman, to be strong 
on the side of virtue, nmst stand with the firmness 
of a martyr, and with more than the strength of 
the fabled Titan, to resist and drive back the black 
and motley herd whose vocation is to blight all the 
flowers of virtue, and to corrupt and blast all the 
refined elements of society. It is to educate women 



Human DmTiNY. 119 

Avhose intellect cannot be despised, and whose high 
culture and refined taste must command respect, 
that we are to look for the elevation of the public 
taste. Woman has always been the greatest suf- 
ferer by the dissoluteness of unbridled passion. 
Of all tears, hers have been the bitterest; and of 
all fates, hers has been the saddest. When the 
morals of society decay, and the dance of death 
has begun, then it is that the lamentations of suf- 
fering woman are heard all along the paths of so- 
cial life. Then it is that society is loosed from its 
moorings, and all that is stable in human hopes 
is wrecked. Then conjugal peace and happiness 
take their flight from homes wdiich might have 
been happy, and leave them in the wildest confu- 
sion, without a trace of virtue, or a ray of hope. 
And let me tell you, when there is no home for 
virtue in this land of ours, domestic peace will be 
among the things that were, the blessings of civil 
and religious liberty will take their flight from the 
vile and seething passions of a fallen race, and in 
homeless wretchedness husbands, and brothers, and 
sons, and fathers, will wander beneath a dark and 
stormy sky, from which neither sun nor star shines 
out to inspire hope, or to arouse to some high and 
noble effort. I have never fostered in my heart. 



120 Our Young People, 

or allowed to nestle in my bosom, the least bitter- 
ness of feeling, nor have I permitted myself to in- 
dulge in a fault-finding or croaking spirit. Armed 
with divine truth, and burning with a holy confi- 
dence in its power to save, I have accustomed my- 
self to look hopefully to the future of my country 
and of my race. When that future has seemed 
all dark, I have looked through the pure and in- 
nocent American home to a grand and sublime 
destiny. As long as I can trust the mothers, wives, 
and daughters, so long can I look with joyful hope 
along all the coming years of the great Republic. 
I have faith in you. I can trust you in society. 
I can look to you as the representatives of the 
pure, grand, and immortal truths which I know 
lodge deeply in your bosoms. With characters 
purified by Christian influence, and rendered ro- 
bust by Christian principles, I can trust you to 
meet and repel all the influences that would lead 
you to pursue sinful paths. Still, I must caution 
you against the wiles of flattery, the tongue of de- 
ceit, the snares of the foolish and vain, and the 
sneers of practical atheism and godless infidelity. 
I must caution you against entering the vortex of 
fashionable dissipation, by which so many have 
been swept to sudden and hopeless ruin. I must 



Human Destiny. 121 

warn you against every appearance of evil. I must 
urge you not to approach the edge of that fear- 
ful precipice over which so many have fallen, and 
have been lost. With a love for you not much in- 
ferior to parental affection, I offer you these words 
of counsel, and beg that they may be heard as dic- 
tated by a loving heart, and as the result of a 
large experience, though not of infallible wdsdom. 

But I have stated that God designed you for 
happiness. 

It is true that you are not to anticipate in this 
life unmingled pleasure. I care not to penetrate 
the future, and foretell the sorrows which are the 
lot of our common humanity. The very suscepti- 
bilities which render us capable of happiness make 
us liable to misery. A pure life meets with proper 
resignation and with holy hope the necessary tri- 
als and sorrows of earth, and looks forward to the 
great beyond with assurance that afflictions here 
shall end in eternal fruition hereafter. The end 
of virtue is happiness, and the reward of purity is 
supreme and ineffable bliss. While then it would be 
both improper and untrue for me to promise com- 
plete happiness in this world, I can assure you that 
a life of spotless innocence, inflexible justice, un- 
adulterated truth, active benevolence, and sincere 



122 Our Young People. 

piety, has its re\Yard, even here. Pleasures spring 
along every pathway of duty. They come as the 
natural and assured heritage of right principles. 
They cluster like beautiful flowers, and send forth 
their sweetest fragrance in all the abodes of virtue. 
They accompany the brave soldier of the cross on 
all the battle-fields for the right. They come like 
swdft- winged angels to minister to the weary and 
worn in all their conflicts, and to bless them with 
patience, and sustain them with resignation. 

Happiness fills the heart of the devoted daugh- 
ter as she patiently and devotedly ministers to a 
sick and suflering mother. It gives beauty to her 
countenance, and activity to her steps. It follows 
the footsteps of love, and attends upon every word 
of affection, and every look of tenderness. It is 
not a transient visitor to the bosom in which pu- 
rity has its abode, but is the constant companion 
of truth and virtue. The energy of lofty princi- 
ples, of purified affections, and of an exalted con- 
science, is the highest energy that man or woman 
can exert. It allies humanity more closely to God 
than all the other energies combined. It is indeed 
godlike, and its results are forever flowing back 
upon the soul in a tide of pure, sparkling joy. 

Extended observation and varied experience 



Human Destint, 123 

have both taught me that in no other way can a 
high destiny be secured. Sloth brings no happi- 
ness, inactivity gives no rewards, and confers no 
honors. An active life is the only happy life. 
The flowers of pleasure bloom only in the pure 
sunshine, unobscured by the clouds of vice and 
folly. They flourish and bear fruit alone in fields 
cultivated by hands of industry. 

You are my epistles, written with my own hand, 
and wearing my own seal. I can trust my repu- 
tation, my life, my character, to you. Into other 
hands I now commit you. Into other and more 
stirring scenes you will now^ be called. Into the 
battle of life you now enter. I shall ever hope 
that you will meet the storm, as does the beautiful 
bird of paradise, with your faces to the tempest, 
and confronting its violence. Dare to be heroic. 
Never attempt to flee from the commands of con- 
science. Yield never to the solicitations of ease 
and sloth. When public opinion is right, go with 
it ; but when wrong, resist it with all the power of 
a sublime principle. Meet scorn, contempt, and 
death itself, sooner than commit a wrong, or shrink 
from duty. You must be women, brave, earnest 
women, ready to do battle upon every field, and in 
all circu mstances. Love your J. /ma Mater. Marti n 



124 Our Young People. 

College looks to her daughters more than to rich 
eiidowineut or to powerful friends. You are her 
jewels in the highest sense of that word. If you 
do not adorn her crown, let her then be crownless ; 
if you do not speak her praises, then let Martin 
College die without a friend, and without a mourner. 
Make your home happy. Throw the radiance 
of love and peace in every nook and corner of the 
old homestead. Love the Bible. Honor the truth 
as it shines out from its pages, and speaks in its 
precepts and in its promises. Love and obey its 
great Author. Hold fast to your holy religion. 
Then, when life's duties are discharged, and its con- 
flicts past, you shall be gathered with the pure and 
the good to enjoy an immortal destiny, whose fru- 
ition shall as far surpass all present expectations 
as heaven shall excel the gilded toys of earth. 



Causes of Fatijibe. 125 



CAUSES OF FAILURE. 



IT is a truth that every child knows, that a great 
many men fail to accomplish any good. They 
are failures. They often curse society, instead of 
blessing it. They are wretched themselves, and 
they make others miserable. Why is this? Why 
does not every man make the world wiser and bet- 
ter? Now, my young readers, you must attend 
closely to this lesson, and you will see why it is so 
few succeed in life. 

1. All people commence life in entire ignorance. 
The child know^s nothing. If, in after-years, knowl- 
edge is gained, it is by great effort. Many persons 
never put forth this effort. They^never try to learn ; 
hence they live and die in ignorance. You have 
heard that knowledge is power. Do you under- 
stand this? Take a doctor. He is sent for to see 
a sick child. The child can tell him nothing. The 
doctor is ignorant. lie know^s not what ails the 
child. He knows nothing of a remedy. He has 
no powder, because he has no knowledge. Another 
doctor comes. He can tell, the moment he exam- 



126 Our Young People, 

ines the child, what is the matter. He tells by the 
skin, or the eyes, or the tongue. He has power. 
He knows the remedy. He cures the child. 

My watch is out of order. It does not keep time. 
I do not know what is the matter with it. I c^rry 
it to a poor mechanic. He knows nothing about 
a watch. He makes it worse. I then take it to a 
first-rate watchmaker. He knows all about it. A 
spring or a wheel is out of fi^. He fixes it. Knowl- 
edge is power. The watch runs all right now. So 
you see that ignorance is one great cause of fail- 
ure. A lady cannot make a dress unless she knows 
how. She cannot cook a meal's victuals unless she 
understands it. Then, if you expect to rise in life, 
you must study; you must try to be wise; you 
must get wisdom, and lay fast hold of instruction. 

2. Many a man fails for lack of energy. He is 
lazy. He loves ease. He will not work. He 
sleeps away the golden opportunities for usefulness 
which God gives him. A lazy man has no suc- 
cess. His whole life is a series of misfortunes. He 
has more bad luck than all his neighbors. His 
farm is grown up with briers and weeds. His 
house has no comforts: the roof leaks, the wind 
whistles through the cracks in the walls, and the 
poor wife has no heart to do any thing, for her hus- 



Causes of Failure. 127 

band gives her no encouragement. The children 
are poorly clad, and badly fed. The home has no 
cheers, and the family circle no joys. The hus- 
band and father is a drone, and a disgrace to hu- 
manity — the shame of his wife, and the ruin of his 
children — for they must grow up in ignorance, and 
probably in crime. 

Now, children, come let us look at a lazy 
man as described by Solomon. It is a beautiful 
morninor. The sun is hig-h in heaven. There 
is not a cloud in the sky. It is the beautiful 
spring-time. The flow^ers bloom, and the birds 
sing, and all Nature is in her gayest attire. Let 
us look at the w^atch. It is just nine o'clock. Just 
on the road-side is a poor shanty. The chimney is 
propped up wdth rails, or it would fall down. The 
gate is off its hinges. The pigs are in the yard. 
The garden is full of thorns and thistles. The 
door is ajar, and we enter. On a bed of straw lies 
the lazy man. He is not sick. He is in a deep 
sleep. He snores. We w^ake him. He rubs his 
eyes. He yawns. He complains, "You have 
waked me too soon ; I must sleep again." His 
children are in rags. His wife is moping in a cor- 
ner of the miserable hovel. You cannot blame 
her, for her children are crying for bread, which 



128 Our Young People, 

the lazy hands of her husband will never earn. A 
lazy boy is at the foot of his class, and a lazy man 
is at the foot of society, all his life. 

3. Another cause of failure is want of firmness. 
Some children are fickle. They have no aim. 
They are very easily influenced to change. They 
cannot continue at any one study, or even at a 
lesson, until it is learned. They never make schol- 
ars. Change! Change is the constant cry. An 
unstable man cannot succeed. If he is first one 
thing, and then another, everybody loses confidence 
in him. I knew a man who was first a dentist, 
then a lawyer, then a preacher, then a politician — 
now on one side in politics, now on another — and 
the result was failure. Children, take your stand. 
Form your purpose. Be firm. Go forward in the 
right. Dare to stick to the true and the good, and 
you will succeed. 

4. Another reason so many fail is the lack of 
honesty and the want of truth. They are cheats; 
they are shams. They lose the confidence of all 
that know them. They make promises, and break 
them. They practice deception as an art. They 
prefer falsehood to truth. Such children always 
come to grief. Such men lose their standing, get 
into trouble, commit crime, and are sent to the 



Causes of Failure. 129 

jail or the penitentiary. I once had a pupil of 
this kind. He would play truant. He would 
feign sickness. He would be guilty of thieving in 
a sly way. He lost all character at college, and 
left in disgrace. He grew up to be a man. He 
still carried on his dishonest practices. The last I 
saw of him he was pecking rock in the peniten- 
tiary of Tennessee. He changed his name in or- 
der to save his family from disgrace. Such must 
be the end of a life that has no principle to guide 
it. Justice may be slow, but it is very sure. Dis- 
honesty, falsehood, hypocrisy, may be prosperous 
for awhile. Such cannot last. Disaster must come. 
Ruin must end a life of falsehood. Disgrace is 
sure to follow a career of crime. 

5. Dissipation is another fruitful source of fail- 
ure. It is utterly impossible for success to follow 
in the wake of a drunkard. He is always incapa- 
ble of business, and unfit for duty. He wastes his 
time, and scatters to the four winds the finest tal- 
ents. He ruins his health, and blights every earthly 
hope. He wallows in mire, and revels in the grat- 
ification of beastly passions. He is a foul blot on 
humanity, and a disgrace to his race. In the great 
battle of life he must always suffer defeat, and in 
the race for honor and emoluments he can never win. 
9 



130 



OuE Young People, 



Let me, then, once more warn our young people 
against this rock upon which so many have split. 
Look not upon the wine when it is red. Touch 
not the intoxicating cup. Take not hold on death. 
Yield not to temptation w^hich fascinates to your 
ruin. Add not another to the uncounted failures 
which dishonor the fairest land heneath the sun. 



The Imagination. ISl 



THE IMAGINATION. 



THE imagination is that power by which the 
mind unites known elements into new rela- 
tions with each other, thereby forming a new cre- 
ation. Among the ancients there w^as an imaginary 
monster, called the Centaur. It was said to be half 
man and half horse. Now, here were elements 
well known — man and horse — but these elements 
w^ere never thus united in nature. 

Such is the power of the imagination that it can 
take any elements, and so unite them as to startle 
by their novelty, and please by their appropriate- 
ness. It is said that when the celebrated Grecian 
painter, Zeuxis, was required to paint a woman 
perfect in form and feature, he took some six of the 
most beautiful w^omen, and selected from each some 
feature, which, by his imagination, he grouped to- 
gether, thus forming a picture of a purely imagin- 
ary being, w^ho excelled any living maiden or ma- 
tron in all that constituted beauty. 

It is thus that the landscapes that shine on can- 
vas come forth from the artistic hands of the paint- 



132 Our Young People. 

er almost without a flaw to mar their beauty. It 
w^as thus that Milton created Paradise glowing with 
beauty celestial. 

We owe to the imagination many of the richest 
and rarest flowers of literature, the finest gems of 
poetry, and the sublimest strains of oratory. It is 
a noble faculty. When tired of the dull monotony 
of this world, we can create other w^orlds shining 
in pristine beauty, unstained by sin, and never vis- 
ited by death and sorrow. It can pass beyond all 
worlds, and look out upon the infinite void in which 
no sun shines, and no world revolves. Corrupt, it 
creates scenes and characters whose very actors are 
of the pit, and whose touch is moral death. It 
was the corrupt imagination of Byron which con- 
ceived the dark pictures in Don Juan. By such 
an imagination the world has been flooded by the 
filthiest ichor that ever sent its pestiferous stench 
to breed moral desolation. Its pictures corrupt 
the innocent, and seduce the young. They fas- 
cinate to bewilder ; they charm to destroy. They 
fire the passions, and pollute the conscience. They 
fill the air with moral malaria, and spread abroad 
most poisonous miasma. 

It is almost universally true that the moral sense 
is tainted through the influence of the imagina- 



The Imagination. 133 

tion. Designed to give to virtue its bright charms, 
and to its rewards celestial luster, it grovels in 
sensuality, and revels amid scenes fetid with the 
results of foul and seething passions. Given to us 
for the Avisest purjDOses, it has been debased to the 
most ignoble ends. Capable of the loftiest and 
purest creations, it has been perverted to an indul- 
gence in scenes whose foulness equals the lowest 
dens of infamy wdiich human deformity has ever 
fostered. With the beauty and grandeur of Nat- 
ure to inspire it, the debased imagination has often 
sought its inspiration amid the most revolting 
scenes of vice and crime. With a powder to soar to 
the highest heaven of thought, it is often content 
to dwell low down amid seething furnaces, w^hose 
fire is kindled by all-consuming lust. 

It is a w^ell-known fact that most of the crimes 
that degrade our race have been committed over 
and over again in imagination before they dis- 
graced our annals in real life. The assassin has 
plunged his dagger to the heart of his victim again 
and again, in his excited and corrupt imagination, 
long before he committed the crime in actual life. 
So it is with all premeditated crimes. They are 
the companions of salacious imaginations, the in- 
vited guests of bosoms which have been opened to 



134 Our Young People. 

them by the heated fervor of ignoble passions. All 
this shows how sin debases and pollutes all that 
it touches. Here is one of the highest of the in- 
tellectual faculties, more honored of God than any 
other, which can be corrupted to the basest pur- 
j)oses, and can be made to delight in the most hor- 
rible and dreadful scenes. The boy reading his 
dime novel is inhaling the poison which is to blight 
his life, and cause to fester the many sources of 
purity and of happiness. The youth alone at night 
allow^s his imagination to inflame the worst of pas- 
sions, amid scenes from which the virtuous mind 
shrinks wdth infinite dismay. And that faculty 
which glowed with supernatural influence, as it 
pictured beneath Isaiah's pen scenes of the grand- 
est sublimity, and touched his lips with hallowed 
fire, carries his powerless victim down, down to 
where the pit opens, and fiends indulge in mid- 
night revels. 

Against this fearful descent let me warn you 
with all the earnestness of love and power of truth. 
Another step, and it may be too late to beat a re- 
treat. Another indulgence of an imagination cor- 
rupted by impure passions may lead to a distance 
from virtue from which there is no return. The 
imagination and passions react upon each other, 



The Imagination, 135 

and produce the fiercest and most intense moral 
heat known. Both, set on fire by the breath of 
demons, lead the soul to utter and helpless ruin. I 
charge my young readers that they listen to this 
voice as though uttered by the lips of the Eternal, 
and that they keep away from influences wdiich 
will bear them w^ith the certainty of destiny to in- 
evitable ruin. Guard with more than vestal vig- 
ilance this wonderful gift of God. Keep it ever 
under the control of an enlightened reason and a 
pure conscience. Repress with the highest energy 
of your nature the first attempts of a corrupt cre- 
ation. Suffer not this brightest star in the coronet 
of mind to shoot out into palpable and everlasting 
darkness. Let it move along the shining path of 
stainless virtue. Let it never wander amid the 
vile and shameless deserts, where no plant of truth 
or flower of purity grows or blooms. Heed the 
words which wisdom dictates and truth utters, and 
never follow the false light of a deceitful and wick- 
ed imagination. 

While God has given to man this w^onderful fac- 
ulty, he has not left it to be perverted by evil in- 
fluences. He has sought to cultivate it by all his 
sublime works. The vault of heaven from which 



136 Our Young People. 

shines the magniiiceDt orb of light by day, and on 
■which are lighted up millions of blazing worlds by 
night, is well calculated to exalt and purify the 
imagination. So with the lofty mountains and far- 
stretching valleys, with babbling brooks and wind- 
ing rivers, with the smooth and silvery lake and 
mighty ocean, with the tiny shrubs and vast for- 
ests — all are calculated to purify and exalt the im- 
agination. If we would allow these works of the 
great Creator to exert their legitimate influence 
upon the imagination, it would rise and soar on 
pinions as strong as those that bear the" angels, and 
pure as strong. It would indulge in no lewdness, 
and revel in no moral filth. It would employ no 
siren's voice to seduce, and no serpent's tongue to 
mislead. Its words would glow with purity, and 
its pictures be redolent of innocence. 

Then there are influences, designed especially for 
this faculty, found along all the pages of Holy Writ. 
They abound in the wonderful history, the vivid 
narrations, the terrible miracles and awe-inspiring 
descriptions of Moses. They glitter like stars upon 
the brow of night in the poetry of Job, the visions 
of Daniel, the prophecies of Ezekiel, the Lamen- 
tations of Jeremiah, in the penitent tears and tri- 
umphant songs of David. The same influences 



The Imagination, 137 

stream along the precepts, and promises, and inim- 
itable parables, of the world's Redeemer. The life 
of Christ is itself a mystic hymn, abounding in 
glowing love and tender compassion, in earnest 
prayer and lofty praise. Let the imagination fol- 
low Him from the manger of Bethlehem to the 
cross of Calvary, and it cannot but be purified 
and ennobled. 

In youth the imagination, like the other facul- 
ties, is most impressible. At this important period 
it is to receive an impulse which may determine 
its character through all coming time. It is on 
this account that I have given you this lesson. I 
desire to send forth a warning which may be heard 
by every young person in the land. You cannot 
watch too carefully, you cannot cultivate too vigi- 
lantly, this important faculty. It is so closely 
interw^oven with the moral nature that you can 
always determine the character of the one by the 
creations of the other. I would, then, guard you 
against all the perils which beset the path of the 
young. Never indulge in day-dreams. They dis- 
sipate the mind, and render it unfit for the realities 
of life. They are often corrupt in their tendency, 
and ruinous in their results. Never associate w^ith 
those whose wit or humor can start the imagina- 



138 Our Young People. 

tion in a downward course. Remember that no 
texture is so delicate and so impressible as tlie 
youthful imagination. A word upon the ear, a 
picture to the eye, may so pervert the imagination 
as to make it the monster of crime and the source 
of unutterable woe. Let your associations be pure. 
As soon herd with the wild beasts as with those 
whose tongues are low and vulgar, and set on fire 
by the basest passions. The howl of the wolf and 
the hiss of the serpent are sweetest music compared 
with ribald jests and vulgar oaths. Listen rather 
to the scream of the panther, or the roar of the 
hungry lion, than to the licentious songs which 
come up from dens of infamy. Join with chatter- 
ing monkeys in their senseless pranks rather than 
engage with the followers of Bacchus or Venus in 
their drunken and licentious orgies. 

Read no bad books. The world abounds in low, 
licentious literature. Turn away from such trash. 
It is the poison of asps. It is the fountain of moral 
death. It is the assassin of character. A corrupt 
literature, under the guise of elegance, takes fast 
hold of the imagination, and literally enchains it. 
It vitiates the taste, corrupts the manners, and pol- 
lutes the morals. No language can express the 
infamy of that pen which draws salacious pictures, 



The Imagination, 139 

that, through the imagiDation, the heart may be 
robbed of its virtues, and the bosom of its inno- 
cence, and the life of its beauty and happiness. 

Employ the imagination on scenes of beauty and 
goodness, on the grandeur of Nature, the majesty 
of God, the mysteries of Providence, and the sub- 
limity of Redemption. Here are fields sufficient 
to exhaust all your powers. Amid them you may 
live in innocence, unstained by even the beginnings 
of crime found in the first perversion of the youth- 
ful imagination. To these fields I invite you, and 
assure you that they will flourish in amaranthine 
beauty, while those that are stained by sin shall be 
blasted with eternal blight and mildew. 

Read good books. Cling to the Book of books, 
the ever-blessed Bible. Link your imagination to 
sound principle and holy truth. Be pure. Let 
every work of the imagination be like its great Au- 
thor. Let the basis on which it rests be the Rock of 
Ages, and the height to which it rises the eternal 
throne. Move with John along the abodes of the 
blessed, and witness the raptures of the redeemed. 
Worship God amid the songs which come pouring 
from sanctified lips on the other side. Ascend with 
Paul to the third heaven, and partake of the 
glories that gild the habitations of the just. 



liO Our Young People. 



NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 



JESUS had spent the night in Bethany. This 
was a little village a short distance from Jeru- 
salem. Jesus often staid there. It was not far 
from the Mount of Olives, where he often prayed 
during the whole night. It is possible that he may 
have been in the mount praying, and that he was 
returning to Jerusalem without his breakfast. Jesus 
was very poor. He was not as rich as the birds 
of the air. He had no house of his own to shelter 
him, and said himself that, in this respect, the wild 
foxes were better off than he was. After a night 
of wakefulness he was hungry. He saw a fig-tree 
by the road-side. It was covered with leaves. A 
fig-tree has the figs first, and the leaves afterward. 
As this tree had many full-grown leaves upon it, it 
ought to have had fruit also. Jesus went to the 
tree to get his humble breakfast. As man, he 
might not have known that the tree had no figs on 
it ; as God, he knew every thing. It was the man 
that was hungry, and as man he might have ex- 
pected to make his breakfast from the figs which 



Nothing but Leaves, 141 

he would gather. At the same time he could rest 
awhile under the shade; but if he expected any 
figs, he was disappointed. The tree bore nothing 
but leaves. Jesus then said, "Let no fruit grow 
on thee forever." It was a fearful curse that he 
uttered. It was as though he had said, I command 
the clouds to send no more fruitful showers upon 
thee; I command the earth to dry up around thy 
roots, and to send no more sap along thy trunk and 
through thy branches ; thou shalt wither ; blight 
shall fall upon thee ; thy leaves shall be dried 
up, and people shall wonder at the quickness with 
which all thy beauty shall depart. Jesus had 
never done so before. He did not come to curse, 
but to bless. He did not come to make things die, 
but to give life and joy to the world. Why, then, 
did he curse the barren fig-tree? He did it to 
leave you a lesson. You must bear fruit. You 
must have something more than leaves. God 
expects it. A boy that will not study his lessons, 
that never reads his Bible, that hates the Sunday- 
school, that learns no sweet songs, that commits to 
memory no verses of Scripture, is like the barren 
fig-tree. The boy that makes large promises, and 
breaks those promises as often as he makes them, 
bears nothino^ but leaves. Remember that the 



142 Our Young People. 

fig-tree promised much, but when the Saviour asked 
for fruit it had no fruit to give. He could not 
satisfy his hunger with leaves. So if you make 
big promises, and break them, that will not satisfy 
the Saviour. He wants fruit. Let me show you 
what kind of fruit he asks you to give him. He 
wants faith. You must believe all he says. You 
must trust in him just as a child trusts in his 
mother. A mother says to her little boy, " Tom, 
my son, shut your eyes and open your mouth." 
Tommy does it. Why? Because he trusts his 
mother will put candy in his mouth. If it were a 
bad boy that said to him. Open your mouth and 
shut your eyes. Tommy w^ould not do it, because he 
W'Ould fear that his mouth would be filled with 
pebbles, or something as bad. But he can trust 
his mother — he knows that she loves him — he is 
sure she will not put any thing that is bad in his 
mouth. Now, my children, that is faith. Jesus 
tells you to open your heart, and he will fill it with 
love. Trust him. He will help you. He will 
bless you. If the little boy would just open his 
heart to Jesus as he does his mouth to his mother, 
he would never be cursed for bearing nothing but 
leaves. Then you must bear love. Jesus deserves 
your love. He is full of love for you. He is so 



Nothing but Leaves, 143 

pure, so good, that if you would only think of him 
as you ought, you would be sure to love him. Then 
he feeds you, and clothes you. He has given you 
kind parents and a sweet home. He gives you 
t lie Bible and the Sunday-school. He makes the 
sun shine for you, and the rain pours down for 
you. Then he has prepared heaven for you. Love 
him because he loves you. Then Jesus expects 
the fruit of obedience. You must not be wicked 
and wayward. He tells you to pray in secret. Do 
what he tells you to do. If I were a boy again, I 
would pray three times a day for Jesus to make 
me good. it is the praying boy that Jesus loves ! 
He will never pronounce a curse on the little boy 
or girl who constantly prays to him. If you want 
to bear fruit, pray. If you desire to be free from 
the awful doom which God brings upon the wicked, 
you must be sure to bear something more than 
leaves. Make no promises that you do not intend 
to keep. 

In discussing the folly and crime of bearing noth- 
ing but leaves, I desire to present my young read- 
ers with an account of the first Methodist preacher 
I ever heard preach. He was the Rev. James 
Faris, but nearly everybody called him "Uncle 



lii Our Young People. 

Jimray/' He was a frequent visitor in my father's 
house, when I was a small boy, and it w^as at the 
invitation of my father that he delivered, in a log 
school-house, the first sermon that I ever heard 
from the lips of a Methodist preacher. He was a 
man of large frame and commanding presence. 
His features were all large, and expressive of the 
genius of this wonderful man. His large Roman 
nose and large gray eyes, his black hair, hanging 
carelessly over his ample forehead, together with 
a well-formed mouth and chin of unusual dimen- 
sions, would impress even the casual observer that 
he was no ordinary man. Many of his sermons 
were on the grandest scale. His robust imagina- 
tion moved on the strongest pinions, and pursued 
its tireless flight amid the most astonishing crea- 
tions that ever startled an audience. Could his 
glowing figures have been pictured on canvas by 
the pencil of a West, they would have made his 
name immortal. His pictures were so vividly 
drawn as to appear like living realities. No pan- 
oramic scenes ever excited more interest, or elic- 
ited deeper feeling. Angels clothed in light and 
beauty, and redeemed spirits adorned with robes 
woven of the beams of the sun, seemed to encircle 
liim as he swept in his loftiest and boldest flights 



Nothing but Leaves. 145 

up to the throne of God. And then, when expec- 
tation was on tiptoe, and you wondered whither 
you would next direct his flight, charmed by the 
spotless throne, the circling rainbow, the songs of 
the redeemed, and, above all, by the presence and 
love of Him who sits upon the throne, he would 
with the blandest smile, and in the most simple 
and artless manner, assume a conversational tone, 
and say, " Lester, I will stay here ; yes, right here 
by the throne, at the feet of my Jesus, forever/' It 
is impossible to describe the electrical effect pro- 
duced by such original and w^onderful preaching. 
Probably no sermon in modern times — no sermon 
since the days of Whitefield — ever produced great- 
er results than his on the barren fig-tree. He 
preached it often, and always with power. I never 
heard him on it but once — then I was but a boy, 
not more than twelve years of age. It was at a 
camp-meeting near Winchester, Tenn. He was 
then in the height of his glory. There were two 
points that impressed me so deeply that I have 
never forgotten them. The first was the faithful 
culture bestowed by the husbandman upon the fig- 
tree. He presented most strikingly the analogy 
between his care and culture of the fig-tree, and 
God's care and culture of the sinner. He then 
10 



146 Our Young Peofle. 

stated that, after all other means fail, sometimes a 
barren fig-tree is made to bear fruit by being bored 
through the heart. Said he : "A few years ago I 
visited a kind friend who had a beautiful orchard. 
Among his trees was a plum, which had ceased to 
bear. He had applied every means of culture, 
and still it was barren. At last he learned this 
remedy. He had it bored through the heart. The 
next year I visited him again. Plums were ripe. 
I went to his barren tree. It was loaded with fruit. 
I plucked and ate from the tree as delicious fruit 
as I ever tasted. So it is often with sinners — they 
will not bear fruit till God bores them right through 
the heart." His eyes filled, the blood rushed to 
his usually pallid cheeks, ^nd every lineament of 
his face was eloquent with deep emotion. "With 
a most expressive gesture, and a voice full of ear- 
nest pathos, he exclaimed : " There they are — these 
fruitless trees in my Lord's vineyard ! Bore them, 
my Lord! bore them through the heart; yes, 
through the heart, and they will be fruitless no 
more ! " He then described the final doom of the 
impenitent — of him who, in spite of all culture, re- 
mained fruitless. You could see the woodman 
with his ax. He examines the ground and the 
tree, and determines which way it shall fall. You 



NoTHixG DVT Leaves, 147 

hear the strokes of the ax as it is swung by the 
stalwart arm of the woodman. The tree trembles, 
quivers, cracks, and falls. Again the deepest emo- 
tion is seen depicted on his countenance. Terror 
seems to arouse him. He looks around with the 
most inquiring gaze, and exclaims : " Which way, 
my Lord, which way does the sinner fall ? Hell- 
ward ; yes, hellward. God have mercy!" The 
word hellward I had never heard before. I shall 
never forget how its frightful intonations fell on 
my ear, and moved my young heart. It is just as 
impossible to sketch the scene as to chain the light- 
ning, or to picture the thunder-storm. Many were 
slain of the Lord. 

Now, since I have told you of how Uncle Jimmy 
preached about the fig-tree, I will tell you how he 
once reproved two finely - dressed young preach- 
ers. He was preaching against fine dress, and was 
quite severe on the ladies for following extrava- 
gant fashions, and right here pretended that some 
lady in the congregation said, " Brother Paris, be- 
gin at home. Some of your young j)^^eachers are 
beginning to dress very fine." "No, no, sister, 
you are mistaken. Our preachers are all follow^- 
ers of Wesley, and never do dress fine." "But 
I tell you. Brother Far is, they are wearing fine 



148 Our Young People, 

gold chains and costly dress, and some of them you 
could not distinguish from the veriest fop. Just 
look behind you in the pulpit, and see if I am not 
right." Uncle Jimmy looked behind him, where 
sat, blushing to their eyes, two finely-dressed young 
preachers. " Well, sister, I have not another word 
to say." 

I have told you of this last sermon merely to 
show you what kind of a man Uncle Jimmy Faris 
w^as. I do not wish to turn you away from the fig- 
tree. God often compares man to a tree. A good 
man is like a good tree, producing the best of fruit. 
See to it, my children, that you bear something 
more than leaves. See to it, that you do not fall 
as a cumberer of the ground. See to it, that when 
the Son of man shall come seeking fruit, you shall 
bear it in clusters rich as the grapes of Eshcol, 
which Joshua and Caleb brought from the prom- 
ised land. 



The Battle of Life. 149 



THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 

A SKETCH FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL CHLLDREN. 



CHILDREN must not fight each other. God 
takes no pleasure in such. Look at that 
boy with a bloody nose and a black eye, and 
his finger almost bitten in two. He is what you 
call a bully. He has had a fight with a boy that 
used to be his best friend. They had a quarrel 
about a game of marbles. One called the other a 
liar, and they fell to, like two fierce dogs, and tried 
almost to kill each other. They both came off 
bloody and bruised. With such boys you would 
better not keep company. You will get into difii- 
culties. You will always be in trouble. So, al- 
ways keep out of company of fighting, quarrelsome 
boys. God is a God of love. Jesus is the Prince 
of Peace. The disciple whom Jesus loved most of 
all wrote, in his old age, " Little children, love one 
another." And yet you must fight — luot with your 
fists, nor yet with clubs or knives. Your weapons 
must be spiritual — that is, in the mind, in the heart, 
in the will. 



li)0 Our Young People, 

Our Saviour refers to this warfare when he says, 
" The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and 
the violent taketh it by force." He does not mean 
that you are to force open the doors of the king- 
dom, and enter like a ruffian or a robber would 
enter your father's house to rob or murder. He 
means to say you are to resist the devil when he 
tempts you to do wrong. He means to say that 
when you are insulted, and your blood gets hot, 
and your mouth opens to say ugly words, and your 
fists double to strike, you are to shut up your mouth, 
and not say one wicked word ; and that you are to 
let your hands hang down, and not deal a blow to 
the one that has made you angry. That is doing 
violence to your own bad temper. That is fight- 
ing against your own angry passions. The ancients 
had a beautiful fable which I will tell you, because 
it will help you to understand about this fight. 

They said that there w^as a great general, named 
Ulysses, and that after the close of the war, which 
lasted ten years, he started home across the sea. 
He had command of the ship which had to sail 
along many dangerous places. It had to pass the 
island of the Sirens, which was the most dangerous 
of all. The Sirens were beautiful women that sung 
^0 sweetly as to entice sailors to land upon their 



The Battle oe Liee. 151 

island, where they were sure to die. Never had 
mortals heard such sweet voices, never had they 
listened to such sweet music as those Sirens made. 
It was so sweet as to make all who heard it forget 
home and friends, and to fill them with the strong- 
est desire to land on the island. They forgot all 
the dangers. They forgot that of the thousands 
that landed there, not one ever escaped. They 
forgot every thing but the music. They thought 
that if they could just land^ and listen to those 
sweet voices, they would be forever happy. Ulys- 
ses knew all the dangers. He knew that if his 
sailors should ouce hear the music of the Sirens he 
could never pass the island. He was determined 
to pass there. He was a man, every inch of him — 
a strong man. He could say, "iVo," and stick to 
it. He could say, ^^ I will,'' and it was done. He 
stopped the ears of all the sailors with wax, so 
that they could not hear a sound. They could not 
even hear the voice of their captain. Then he 
had himself tied fast to the mast of the ship, 
so that he could not land on the island, even if 
he should wish to do so. This was violence to 
himself, was it not? Soon they came near the 
island. The music swept over the weaves ; it fell 
on the ears of Ulysses ; it filled him w^ith delight. 



152 Our Young People. 

"I must land/' said he. He was crazy. The 
music charmed him, and overcame him, so that he 
was not himself. He called to the sailors, but 
their ears were stopped with wax, and they heard 
not a word. He tried to make signs, but his 
hands and his feet were tied fast to the mast of 
the ship. He could do nothing. The music 
became sw^eeter, and he tried hard to break his 
chains, but he could not. They kept him fast. 
So the music died away ; the vessel moved swift- 
ly over the waters; the island was passed; the 
sailors were safe; Ulysses was unbound; all were 
happy. 

Now, what does the fable mean ? It means that 
when the tempter comes to charm, we must stop 
our ears. It means that we are to fasten our pas- 
sions to the mast of principle. Chain your pas- 
sions — yes, chain them, my boys, and the Sirens 
may sing, and devils may tempt, but you are safe. 
Down with passions, down with appetite. Fight 
them, you young soldiers; fight them, conquer 
them. If appetite call you to eat what will make 
you sick, say, No; I. will not eat that. If it lead 
you to drink what will make you drunk, do not 
touch a drop of it. This is fighting the good fight. 
If you are tempted to tell a lie, fight against it, 



Tee Battle of Life. 153 

and tell the truth, cost what it may. If an angry 
word rise to your lips, press it down, and then 
speak a soft word, which always turns away 
anger. If you are tempted to be lazy, fight 
against it. A lazy boy will be a poor scholar, 
and will always stand at the foot of his class. 
It is industry that makes the man. Never be 
ashamed of work. Be ashamed to be idle. I 
love the active, working, studious boy or girl. 
Good old Lorenzo Dow used to say, *'The idle 
man's brain is the devil's w^orkshop." Surely 
there is not a boy or girl among us that wants 
the devil to make a workshop of his or her 
head. Keep busy. This is a working age. We 
must all work, or we shall get far behind. God 
works, and angels work. Would you be like 
them, then you must work. Fight like soldiers 
against laziness. Kise early ; be diligent. Never 
put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day. 
If you have a wicked tongue, fight against it; 
bridle it ; keep it shut up in the prison which God 
made to guard it. 

And noY/ let me describe the army in which 
I wish you to fight. They are all dressed in a 
most beautiful uniform. The head is covered 
in a beautiful cap, called a helmet. It repre- 



154 Our Young People. 

sents hope. It shines so brightly that darkness 
is always driven from the head that wears it. 
The soldier that wears it is always so sure of 
victory that he is ever bold and brave. Light 
falls from his helmet in the darkest hour. He 
never despairs. He is never gloomy, because this 
strange light from the helmet points him to a 
crown which he is sure to wear. A strong breast- 
plate covers his bosom. It is like polished steel. 
The breastplate is emblematic of righteousness. 
His cause is just. Right principle protects him. 
The darts of the enemy cannot pierce his breast- 
plate, for it is the same that guards the throne 
of God. His feet are protected by strong sandals. 
No stone can hurt them, no thorn can pierce them. 
The sandals represent peace. They teach the sol- 
dier that his warfare shall soon end in perfect 
peace. They seem to say to weary feet, Go on; 
you will soon ascend the last hill, and go through 
the last valley. While the heart is strong, and 
the head bright and hopeful, let the feet be cheer- 
ful and active. 

These soldiers are all bearing in their left-hands, 
or on their left-arms, shields, strong and iBright. 
They almost dazzle you, they shine so like polished 
brass in the blazing sunshine. The shield is the 



The Battle of Life. 155 

emblem of faith. There is ^Yrittell or carved upon 
it, in burning letters, "Ye believe in God, believe 
also in me." When a soldier doubts, then he be- 
gins to tremble — he turns coward, and runs from 
the battle. But these soldiers should never doubt. 
The victory is as certain as the cause is right. The 
shield is a perfect safeguard. Then, each has on 
a robe as white as snow, and fastened around by 
a shining girdle, which is the emblem of truth. 
Now they gather around a banner which floats 
aloft, and bears upon its folds a blood-red cross. 
The Captain gives to each a well-tried sword, which 
bears upon its blade the symbol of the Bible, the 
word of God. A shout arises from all the hosts 
as they receive the sword, and listen to the words 
of the glorious Commander. Such a Commander 
the w^orld never saw. His head and his hairs are 
white like wool — as white as snow. He is girt 
W'ith a golden girdle. His eyes are as a flame of 
fire. His feet are like fine brass, as though they 
burned in a furnace. As He moves along the 
lines a slimy serpent tries to get in His path. He 
places His foot upon his head, and while he 
writhes in death the hosts shout victory. He is 
the same that Isaiah saw coming from Edom, with 
dyed garments from Bozrah, glorious in His ap- 



156 



Our Young People, 



parel, traveling in the greatness of His strength. 
He is the same that John saw with the stars in 
His right-hand. He is Jesus of Nazareth. Come, 
my children, join His army. Be soldiers for 
Christ. Fight the good fight of faith. 



Joseph, 157 



JOSEPH. 

A MODEL YOUNG MAN. 



I DESIRE to talk to you yonng people to-day 
about Joseph, the son of Jacob. I can re- 
member well when I first read the history of Joseph, 
as it is given in the Bible. I was wonderfully in- 
terested. Though but a boy, I had begun the read- 
ing of my Bible through. When I got to Joseph, 
I could not rest until I had read all that related 
to him. I thought the Bible the most interesting 
book I had ever read — I think so still — and among 
the most beautiful stories in the good book are 
those that are told about Joseph. His father and 
mother were old when he w^as born. He was a 
beautiful and favorite boy. His father loved him 
too well. This excited the envy of his brothers, 
of whom there were ten besides Benjamin. They 
were all shepherds, and they would carry their 
flocks from one pasture-ground to another. Joseph, 
besides exciting their envy on account of his being 
the favorite of his father, had some wonderful 
dreams, which gave to his brothers great offense. 



158 Our Young People, 

This caused them to determine upon his death. 
Now you must all get your Bibles, and read how 
strangely he was saved after he was thrown into 
the pit to starve to death ; how he was sold as a 
slave ; how a rich man named Potiphar bought 
him ; how he lost his place by the wickedness of 
Mrs. Potiphar ; how he was thrown into prison, 
and what strange dreams he explained to the but- 
ler and baker of the king ; how this led to his be- 
ing called upon to tell the meaning of the dreams 
of Pharaoh, king of Egypt ; and how he was placed 
at the head of all the men that Pharaoh honored. 
Then I want you to read about the famine, and all 
about his brothers coming to buy corn from him — 
not knowing who he was — and how, at last, he 
made himself known to them. You will find it all 
in the first book of the Bible, and it will be more 
interesting to you than any novel. 

My object in talking to you about Joseph is to 
show you what a good boy he was, and what a 
good man he became. He was not spoiled because 
his father loved him so much. It is a w^onder that 
he was not. It is very apt to make a boy foolish 
and vain for his father to show that he loves him 
more than he does his brothers. But Joseph was 
not ruined even by his beautiful coat of many col- 



Joseph. 159 

ers, which his father gave him. He was modest 
and humble, even when temj)ted to be haughty and 
proud. His brothers hated him, but he did not 
hate them in return. He continued in the path of 
duty, the same noble boy, and was not turned out 
of the way by the too great fondness of his father, 
or the envy and hatred of his brothers. His strong 
character withstood the shocks of too great par- 
tiality on the one hand, and intense hatred on the 
other ; that is, he remained firm, true, and con- 
sistent, in the midst of circumstances which would 
have caused most people to fall. He was no tat- 
tler, and yet he felt it his duty to tell his father 
some sins of which his brothers had been guilty. 
Now, on different occasions I have cautioned you 
against tattling and tale-bearing — it is an abom- 
inable habit. Joseph, acting from principle, told 
his father what he ought to know. He did it for 
the good of his brothers. He did it from a sense 
of duty, we may well believe. It was an unpleas- 
ant duty. It is always unpleasant to inform par- 
ents of the faults of their children. I have known 
it to make both parents and children the enemies 
of the one who, from the purest motives, gave in- 
formation which ought to have been given to the 
parents. Upright, good men, often shrink from 



IGO Our Young People, 

such a painful duty. I know, from painful ex- 
perience, what a trial it is, and yet it is often a 
duty that pure love to both parents and children 
dictates. The highest interests of the child can be 
met only by the father when he knows the fiiults 
of his children. 

"Brother," said a Sabbath-school superintendent 
to a most devoted father, "your son Tommy be- 
haved very badly at church last Sunday." Now, 
Tommy was a bright, beautiful boy, and was the 
pride of his father. The information mortified the 
father very much, but it did not offend him with 
the good superintendent. "I thank you," said he, 
" for telling me. I will see Tommy, and correct 
him for such conduct. He knows that I do not 
allow it." Now this was right, and was creditable 
to both the superintendent and the father of Tom- 
my. Tommy is now a noble man, and never mis- 
behaves at church. This, as I understand the char- 
acter of Joseph, was the very motive that prompted 
him, at the early age of seventeen years, to bring 
the evil report to his father. 

Joseph had perfect control of his temper. He 
never showed anger. He did not retaliate when 
his brothers abused him. He was always patient. 
They ridiculed him; they threatened to kill him; 



Joseph, 161 

they threw him into a pit ; they cruelly sold him 
as a slave ; they tore his beautiful coat off his back, 
and bid him go ; and under all this he manifested 
no bad temper. He was cruelly treated by the 
wicked wife of Potiphar. She abused him ; she 
told her husband a tale that had in it not a word 
of truth ; she had him deprived of his place as 
steward, and thrown into prison ; and Joseph was 
patient under all this. Innocent as a babe, he was 
as patient as he was innocent. He bore all with- 
out a murmur. He went from the palace to the 
prison as quietly as he had gone from the sheep- 
fold to his father's house. 

Joseph was pure. He w^ould never have read 
the wicked, yellow-back novels that some boys love 
to read. He spoke no vulgar word. He was free 
from low, vulgar conduct. Among the faithless, 
he was faithful. Among the licentious, he was 
chaste in thought, and word, and deed. Alas, 
what a crime is impurity I It is too of such a 
nature that delicacy often prevents the minister or 
the teacher from referring to it. But the blessed 
Saviour spoke against it as a crime of the deepest 
dye. An impure thought w^as condemned by him 
as a violation of the seventh commandment. It 
is the solemn duty of the young to flee from the 
11 



162 Our Young People, 

thought that can corrupt, from the conversation 
that can tempt, from the reading that can lead 
astray, the pictures that can excite unholy feel- 
ings, and from every influence that can lessen re- 
gard for virtue. Corrupt the imagination, and 
arouse the passions of the young by pictures of 
vulgarity, either real or imaginary, and the path 
to ruin is opened amid scenes too loathsome to de- 
scribe, and yet too tempting to be resisted, except 
by the purest principles and the strongest resolu- 
tion. Impurity makes man a brute, and it sinks 
woman to the lowest place on earth — where the 
decent cannot go, and where little else than fiends 
do assemble. Be like Joseph. Resist temptation. 
Avoid bad company. Do not look upon pictures 
of vice. Read no bad books. Keep company with 
the good. Let your reading be governed by the 
purest taste ; and, above all, pray to God to keep 
you from influences that will certainly ruin both 
soul and body. 

Joseph was industrious. He was never an idler. 
He never yielded to sloth. In watching his fa- 
ther's flocks, in attending to the duties of a slave 
in the house of Pharaoh, in obeying the stern 
jailer, and finally, in attending to the affairs of 
all Egypt, he was always diligent and faithful in 



Joseph, 163 

tlie discharge of duty. He was always at his post. 
He never wasted his time when he was in adver- 
sity by murmurings and foolish complainings, and 
when prosperous he was equally free from the pur- 
suit of pleasure. He would never have risen to 
be greater than the king but for his industry. 
Idleness lives in filth and foulness. It flourishes 
on ignorance and brutality. It is the mother of 
prejudice, pride, and folly. It stops improvement, 
and ruins all progress. Never be idle. Joseph 
was a worker. What his hands found to do he 
did with all his might. And let me ask you just 
to think what his untiring industry accomplished. 
It made him the greatest man of his day. It 
saved Egypt from waste and ruin during seven 
years of pinching famine. So will it save you 
from poverty, and the country from famine. Jo- 
seph was generous. He was not a man to indulge 
in petty revenge. He at first afiected to be a 
little harsh with his brothers, and all the time 
his soul was overflowing with the most generous 
emotions ; and when at last he was appealed to by 
the simple, touching eloquence of Judah, the very 
fountain of his feelings was broken up. His noble, 
tender, generous soul showed itself in a flood of 
tears. He could govern his feelings no longer. 



164 Our Young People. 

"I am Joseph, your brother. Come near to me, 
I pray you. Doth my father yet live?" That 
strong man wept, and wept aloud, because of those 
deep and generous feelings that had remained pure 
amid all the changes of his life. Now, can you be 
like Joseph in this ? If your brother or sister does 
you harm, can you forgive and forget ? Can you 
love on, love ever? Joseph loved his father. He 
never became ashamed of the old man, though he 
had got far above him. Some foolish men become 
ashamed that they were born of poor parents. 
Not so with Joseph. He was not ashamed to let 
the great king know that he was the son of a 
humble shepherd. Never did filial devotion shine 
out more beautifully than in the life of Joseph. 

Honor your parents, children, by every word 
and act of your lives. You can never repay them 
for their kindness and love to you. 

But, above all, Joseph had faith in God. He 
trusted in him as the Author of all his good. In 
the pit, in slavery, in prison, his holy trust in Di- 
vine Providence never faltered. Now, then, take 
Joseph as your model. Be strong in resolution, 
generous in feeling, pure in conduct, respectful to 
your parents, and pious to God. Be this, and a 
brighter than Egypt's crown will be yours. 



The Beautiful Queen, 165 



THE BEAUTIFUL QUEEN. 

A MODEL FOR YOUNG WOMEN. 



'^If I perish, I perish." Esther iv. 16. 

THESE words were uttered by Esther, the wife 
of Ahasuerus, after the decree had gone forth 
to destroy all the Jews in the one hundred and 
twenty-seven provinces of Media and Persia, and 
after she had been urged by Mordecai to use her 
influence with the king to prevent the carrying 
out of the bloody edict. It was death, by the im- 
mutable laws of Media and Persia, for any one to 
enter unbidden in the presence of the king. Esther 
hesitated, and Mordecai said, "If thou altogether 
boldest thy peace at this time, then shall there en- 
largement and deliverance arise to the Jews from 
another place ; but thou and thy father's house 
shall be destroyed; and who knoweth whether 
thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as 
this?" These words determined the noble woman. 
She called upon her people to fast and pray, and 
said, "So will I go in unto the king, which is not 
according to law; and if I perish, I perish." The 



166 Our Young People. 

words indicate, first, a deep sense of individual 
responsibility. Responsibility always varies with 
the relations and circumstances of the individual. 
The responsibility of the adult is always greater 
than that of the child; of the educated, greater 
than that of the uneducated ; of the wife and 
mother, much greater than that of the maiden. 
Esther was no longer a humble Jewish maiden. 
She was a queen. Her position largely increased 
her responsibility. She alone of all the people of 
Israel might cause a revocation of the decree 
which had spread such dismay among all the Jews 
in the kingdom. The responsibility could not be 
evaded — it could not be transferred to another. 
She felt, with all the intensity of her woman's 
nature, the delicacy of her position, the peril of 
her people, and the fearful responsibility which 
had been laid upon her in reference to the salva- 
tion of Israel. 

The words involve the exercise of the most he- 
roic courage. Esther was a modest, timid woman. 
She was utterly unequal to the exhibition of phys- 
ical courage. She could not have been a Semi- 
ramis or a Joan of Arc. She could not have led 
battling hosts to slaughter and to victory. Her 
courage was moral, not physical. It was evoked 



The Beautiful Queen, 167 

by the perils of her people; it was sustained by 
their prayers. She passed through a terrible con- 
flict. Her great soul was agitated to its depths. 
Vashti forsaken, neglected, divorced, was a fear- 
ful example of the wrath of her husband. One 
queen had been driven from the palace, and ban- 
ished from his heart, for refusing to come w^hen 
invited by the king; the other periled her life by 
going in his presence unbidden. It required cour- 
age to meet such danger. She was equal to the 
occasion. Like Luther, wdio, when dissuaded by 
his friends from going into the royal presence, and 
in the face of papal power and wrath, said, "I 
would go, though the devils were as numerous as 
the tiles upon the houses," this woman said, "I 
go ; and if I perish, I perish." 

The words indicate inflexible determination. 
She had counted the cost. A high resolve Avas in 
her heart. She arose to the full height demanded 
by the occasion. Firm as the rocks upon which 
she built her hopes, unmoved by danger, and un- 
faltering in the midst of perils, she w^ent forward 
to her noble task with a calmness and self-posses- 
sion which must have astonished herself. It is so 
with w^oman. Often, in the midst of danger, she 
alone retains perfect self-command. Among the 



168 Our Young People. 

most unfaltering of the Christian martyrs were 
modest, timid maidens, or noble matrons. They 
met death by fire, or by crucifixion, or by hungry 
wild beasts, with a firmness so unflinching as to 
produce astonishment and wdn admiration even 
from their enemies. It has become a proverb that 
woman's strength of character caused her to be 
the last to leave the cross, and the first to visit the 
grave, of the world's Redeemer. It was almost a 
paradox that one possessed of masculine energy, 
that one naturally of so delicate organization, could 
have presented to the world so sublime an exam- 
ple of heroic courage and unshaken determination 
as was presented by this timid Jewess queen. Mild, 
but firm, gentle, but brave, was this beautiful 
queen, whose sublime words have rarely been 
equaled in the history of poetry and eloquence. 

The words, together with the accompanying his- 
tory, imply an earnest trust in the God of Abra- 
ham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob. She belonged to 
a race which had been the especial objects of divine 
care. They had been delivered from the bondage 
of Egypt by a train of miracles the most splendid 
in the history of God's dealing with man. She had 
called upon her people to fast. She herself had 
fasted. Mordecai had urged her to the work, be- 



The Beautiful Queen. 169 

cause God had placed her in the kingdom for that 
very purpose. These are, then, not the words of 
despair, but rather of humble yet strong confi- 
dence that God would humble the proud and exalt 
the lowly, and save his people. 

While the words indicated that success must be 
the result of a mission undertaken with such a 
spirit, the history is a beautiful and poetical record 
that Esther triumphed, and her people were deliv- 
ered. They were scattered over the vast empire. 
The edict came w^ith stunning effect upon them 
that they w^ere all to die — not one was to be spared. 
To them the heavens seemed hung in black, and 
the earth was covered with a pall of gloom. The 
cloud had no silver lining. The law was irrevo- 
cable. They were powerless to resist the terrible 
force. The land W'as filled with mourning. A 
wail of despair w^as heard through all its borders. 
No age, nor sex, nor condition, was to be spared. 
Youth and beauty, age and worth, men and 
women, Avere alike the victims of an edict as cruel 
as it was malignant and universal. The unbridled 
ambition of a spoiled minister was to be gratified 
by the sacrifice of an entire race. 

Suddenly there was a change. The edict was 
revoked. The queen had been successful. Alone 



170 Our Young People, 

she went into the presence of the king. Her heart 
throbbed with strange emotions as she found her- 
self unbidden, and against the law, in his presence. 
Her hour had come. Her destiny and the doom 
lay upon that one moment. The extending of the 
scepter would be the signal of her triumph — its 
being withheld would be her ruin. Pale, trustful, 
determined, she moved forward. Her presence was 
known. The heart of the king moved with com- 
passion. The scepter was held out, and she was 
safe. Then there was joy in the land. Never be- 
fore had such shouts of praise gone up from an 
entire people. Their noble queen had turned away 
the poison from their lips. They were saved from 
utter destruction. Night never hung its starry cur- 
tain over a happier people, and day never shed 
its splendor upon a more grateful people than were 
the Jews upon the reception of the tidings so un- 
expected and so joyous. 

The whole history shows the influence of a good 
woman in a noble cause. When woman is con- 
fined to the sphere for which God designed her, 
shedding the light of a beautiful example upon 
the domestic circle, pleading for the poor and con- 
demned, ministering to want and woe, and being in 



The Beautiful Queen, 171 

all respects a helpmeet for man, no language can 
describe the influence of which she is the center. 
The unselfish, prudent, devoted wife ; the patient, 
pious, loving mother ; the sweet, gentle sister ; the 
pure, modest, affectionate daughter — are ever ex- 
erting an influence upon the rugged heart of man 
as soft as the dew upon the mown grass, as silent 
as the great principle of gravitation, and as pow- 
erful as it is silent and gentle. No other person 
than Esther could have influenced the king to re- 
voke a law of the Medes and Persians. She alone 
could turn away the tide of desolation which threat- 
ened to sweep an entire people from the face of 
the earth. She alone could hush the storm whose 
distant mutterings were heard with keenest an- 
guish by every child of Abraham. So it ever is, 
so it ever will be, wath a good woman. She can 
do more to correct the faults of a man, to hush 
the storms of passion, to curb a mad ambition, and 
more to lead man to truth, justice, purity, and be- 
nevolence, than any other merely human influence. 
In the quiet of her home, with a modesty which 
shrinks from observation, with a purity unstained 
by a contact with the corrupt passions of the world, 
and with a consistency unmarred by its fashions 
and maxims, a good woman consecrates herself to 



172 Our You^^g pKorLK. 

the good of her race. The son feels her influence 
ever present, and ever restraining him in his wikl- 
est moments ; the husband feels it, and is attracted 
by it from scenes of revelry and mirth to the home 
of grace and purity. It permeates society with the 
mildness of spring and the gentleness of the zephyr. 

The history contained in the Book of Esther 
illustrates in a most striking manner the words of 
the great Teacher : " He that exalteth himself shall 
be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be 
exalted." Haman exalted himself most wickedly 
and cruelly, and was brought to destruction. Mor- 
decai, the Jew, humbled himself, and was exalted. 

The success accomplished by the effort of Esther, 
preceded by the humiliation and fasting of her en- 
tire people, shows that God will ever be attentive 
to the prayers of the faithful. He had said, " Call 
upon me in the day of trouble, and I will de- 
liver thee." Wonderfully w^as this promise ful- 
filled. Throughout the one hundred and twenty- 
seven provinces there ^vas fasting among the only 
true w^orshipers of the living God. Prayer went 
up from every altar ; it was uttered by youthful 
lips, and it trembled on lips of age. It was not 
uttered in vain. It moved Him wdio restrains the 
wrath of kings. It was heard by Him wdio wheels 



The Beautiful Queen, 173 

His throne upon the rolling ^yorlds. He heard in 
heaven ; He answered upon earth. As God ever 
hears prayer, he never fails his people in the hour 
of darkness. He utters his voice, and the strong 
hearts of kings are melted. Though thought be 
broken, language lame, the prayer of the humble, 
trusting heart is ever heard and ever answered. 
The doctrine of special providence is beautifully 
taught and forcibly illustrated in the Book of Es- 
ther. Though the name of God is not found in 
the book, the finger of God pervades the entire 
history. God is in providence directing events and 
governing issues. He makes even the wrath of 
man to praise him. Mysterious, universal, all-per- 
vading, and yet particular, the providence of God 
affords the good man protection and comfort w^hich 
he would derive from no other source. 

And now w^ho, after reading this beautiful his- 
torical poem, will not pronounce the literature of 
the Bible to belong to the highest order ? Its po- 
etry is varied, original, and sublime, abounding in 
the highest epic and dramatic interest, and in the 
niost vivid descriptions. One while it utters a 
wail sad as a funeral dirge, then it bursts forth in 
songs of wildest joy. The Bible is not only the 
book of religion for the world, but it is a book of 



174 Our Young People. 

literature which, for freshness, beauty, and ele- 
gance, has no rival. It is the fountain from which 
such minds as Milton and Shakespeare drank the 
deepest draughts. It has fired the imagination of 
the painter, guided the chisel of the sculptor, and 
touched the lips of the orator with hallowed fire. 
Arousing the genius of the musical composer, it 
has given to the world the greatest oratorios that 
ever gratified the imagination or pleased the taste. 
From this entire discussion wx have' two prac- 
tical reflections. The first is, that by a beautiful 
contrast we are encouraged, as helpless sinners, to 
go to God for peace and pardon. Esther went 
alone, and to a harsh king; and with the words, 
"If I perish, I perish,'^ she obtained her request, 
and saw her people again happy. We go not 
alone before the throne to the Father: Jesus is 
our Advocate, and accompanies us with an appeal 
so tender, so eloquent, that the Father is sure to 
hear, to answer, and to save. No sinner ever thus 
approaching was spurned from the throne. With 
Jesus as our Advocate, and the holy angels, and 
redeemed spirits, and all the good on earth to ac- 
company us, we are sure of success at the mercy- 
seat. Be encouraged, then, to go at once to the 
cross, and bathing it with tears of penitence, and 



The Beautiful Queen. 175 

humbliDg yourself at its foot, you will be exalted 
to the skies. 

One more practical reflection is this: Do not 
utter these words in any light and trifling manner. 
Do not say, "Well, I must go on in sin; and if I 
perish, I perish with thousands of others/^ No, 
no, my friend, do not peril the interest of eternity 
thus. Turn to God with high resolve, and turn 
this moment. Your hour may now be come. 
Avail yourself of this offer of mercy, and be saved 
by grace. Let nothing prevent your immediate 
and entire consecration to God. He will accept 
you, and bestow upon you a heritage whose rich- 
ness surpasses all the wealth of the w^orld, and 
w^hose continuance is commensurate with eternity. 



176 Our Yov^^G People. 



TEMPTATIONS, AND HOW TO 
CONQUER THEM. 



AS an old sailor upon life's ocean, I desire to 
point the young mariner to the dangers of 
the voyage. As an old soldier of the cross, I hope 
to sound the alarm in such manner as to arouse 
every young man that reads these appeals to a 
sense of danger, and to an appreciation of duty. 
As an old teacher of young men, I trust that I 
may win to the pursuit of virtue many a young 
man who is in real danger of being overcome by 
the temptations which beset the path of life almost 
from the cradle to the grave. Will my young 
countrymen listen to these counsels, dictated as 
they are by the warmest affection, and resulting 
as they do from long and varied e^cperience, and 
extensive observation? 

In this lesson I desire to call your attention to 
the sources of temptation, and to the means of re- 
sistance — such as may assure victory. 

Temptations are always solicitations to sin. They 
are from without and from within, and they come 



Temptations, 177 

from the spiritual and the material, from the ani- 
mate and inanimate. 

1. We do not doubt that Satan offers temptations 
to all that are accessible to him. He is a great 
destroyer. Subtle to an extent almost beyond con- 
ception, he adapts himself to the weaknesses of 
human nature, and lays his snares in such manner 
as to be most certain to secure his prey. Active, 
he plies his terrible vocation without w^asting one 
moment in indolence, or in pursuit of any other 
object than the ruin of souls. Malignant, he stops 
at nothing wdiich he thinks will enable him to car- 
ry out his bad designs. Were his cunning em- 
ployed in behalf of virtue, it would be the most 
consummate wisdom. Were his energy put forth 
to save men, he would be an example of all the 
angels of God. Were his malignity to God and 
man turned by some mysterious power to love, he 
w^ould shine as a star of the first magnitude in the 
moral firmament. Miserable himself, he seeks to 
carry misery throughout the creation of God. Cor- 
rupt in every principle, he scatters the seeds of 
death along all the paths of human life. False in 
every possible way, he practices every form of de- 
ception, and assumes every possible shape, that he 
may compass his unholy ends. He is ever on the 
12 



178 Our Young People, 

alert to increase his influence and extend his do- 
minions. He lurks amid scenes and associations 
in which his presence would be least suspected. 
He not only holds high carnival in the drink- 
ing - saloon and in the gambling - hell, but he 
obtrudes himself into the Church, and seeks to 
pervert the truth, or destroy its influence. He 
assails the minister of God, and tries to place 
falsehood on his lips and hypocrisy in his heart. 
He would turn a John or a Paul into a Judas 
Iscariot, and cause a fresh betrayal of the Son of 
God. He comes in the incense of flattery, and 
would arouse an ambition which caters to the 
most vitiated taste, and seeks popularity at the 
expense of immortal souls. He enters the domes- 
tic circle, and leads to jealousy, strife, and death. 
He attacks all the social relations, and often 
weakens the bonds by which they are united. 
With all his own great but perverted powers, and 
with many emissaries ready to do his bidding, he 
carries on perpetual warfare upon all principles, 
institutions, angels, and men, that seek the good 
of the universe, or the glory of God. With an 
effrontery which claimed allegiance, and even 
wanted worship, from the Son of God, he en- 
deavors to usurp the place of the Almighty in 



Tempt A tioxs, 179 

all Ills vast dominions. Plausible in his argu- 
ments, shrewd in his suggestions, and utterly 
reckless in his promises, he excites impulses and 
arouses passions as dangerous as they are sinful. 
Proteus-like, he can become an angel of light, if 
by this means he can lead one soul to ruin. In 
all this his arts are as deceitful as they are decoy- 
ing and destructive. With untiring energy he 
plies them wherever his sleepless vigilance and 
restless activity may find a proper subject, or a 
suitable oj^portunity. 

2. We are often tempted by wicked men. 
These are often willing slaves of a vile and exact- 
ing master. They tempt by the flow^ers of rheto- 
ric and the charms of poetry; by exciting fiction, 
licentious narrative, and salacious description ; by 
obscene speech and lascivious look. They scorn 
the Deity, and insult his authority. They reject 
the Bible as a book of fables, proclaim Christ as 
an impostor, and denounce Christianity as a vile 
superstition. They allure to the scene of debauch, 
and hush the voice of conscience amid its excite- 
ments. They employ the pencil and chisel to 
give attraction to vice, and lessen the restraints 
of virtue. They fawii, and flatter, and sing, and 
dance, and plead, and urge, until principle gives 



180 Orn Tory a People. 

way, purity is debauched, passion rules the hour, 
and the dance of death begins. Wit and humor, 
genius and learning, rank and position, wealth and 
power, have all been employed to corrupt the 
pure, allure the good, entice the innocent, and en- 
trap the unsuspecting. Thus man has lent him- 
self the willing slave of Satan, when he should 
have been God's freeman. The licentious wretch 
has, by vivid and overwrought pictures of lascivi- 
ous pleasures, so aroused the imagination and in- 
flamed the passions of the young as to lead them 
to indulge in a course of conduct at once dishon- 
oring to God, ^disgraceful to human nature, and 
degrading to themselves. The worshiper of Bac- 
chus has presented in cut-glass goblets the spark- 
ling beverage which has darkened so many lives, 
blighted so many homes, and tempted so many to 
ruin. 

3. Temptations often arise in the human heart. 
The instinctive desire of owning, unless properly 
restrained, will lead to covetousness. The desire 
to own is constitutional, natural, and innocent. It 
needs to be constantly watched, and properly dis- 
ciplined, or it will not merely tempt to covetous- 
ness, but it will degenerate into it. Every man 
has a desire for happiness. This is innocent in 



Temptation's, 181 

itself, and was implanted for the wisest purposes. 
It may be made a high motive for virtuous action. 
Unless it is, however, under proper regulation, it 
will surely solicit to selfish and unworthy gratifi- 
cation. Appetite often craves satiety in a manner 
condemned both by reason and revelation. Am- 
bition tempts to falsehood and trickery, or to usur- 
pation and cruelty. The desire of ease may tempt 
to indolence. Pride and vanity may tempt to 
blasphemy, and to the exaltation of self in the 
place of God. So among all the impulsive pas- 
sions of human nature, there is barely one which, 
under misdirection and evil influence, may not 
lead to sin. Life is indeed a battle. From its 
beginning to its close it is beset with temptations. 
A book, a picture, a word, a look, a sneer^ a ges- 
ture, may tempt to wrong. From w^ithin and 
without, in solitude and in society, when employed 
and when idle, temptations may arise, and if yield- 
ed to, will place us under a yoke from which no 
human power can ever release us. 

I come now to consider the means by which 
temptation may be overcome. First, we must 
have a fixed aim — a settled purpose to do the 
right. The path of duty is often through dangers 



182 Our Young People, 

and difficulties. It is like the ascent of Alpine 
heights. It is up the steepest acclivities and over 
deep chasms. It is fearfully rugged, and demands 
lofty courage, indomitable energy and persever- 
ance. Frowning cliffs must not appall us, and 
deep chasms must not frighten us. .The roar of 
mountain torrents, angry and swift, must not turn 
us from the path of duty. We must push our way 
over snow and ice, over abrupt precipices and 
perpendicular heights, until we reach our goal. 
No man with faltering nerve, or quailing cour- 
age, or wavering will, can conquer temptation. 
No cowardly man can resist the tide of evil influ- 
ence — the avalanche of temptations which sweep 
along every path of human life. A man may 
have towering genius, and glowing imagination; 
he may boast of a proud ancestry, and vast 
wealth ; he may have elegant manners, and deep 
and tender sympathies ; but without the power 
to say "No," he will be borne along the flood of 
evils until he sinks beneath the wave to rise no 
more. Many a young man has been brought up 
by pious parents amid the purest associations of a 
well-ordered home. He has come to the city with 
tearful eyes looking after him, and anxious, loving 
hearts throbbing for him. He faltered at the 



TEMPTATIONS. 183 

threshold. He failed to declare himself a Chris- 
tian. He hesitated ^vheii solicited to do wrong. 
He blushed when the sneer of the tem^^ter ex- 
pressed contempt for his hesitancy. The path of 
duty became too rugged. He frequented haunts 
of pleasure. He plunged into extravagance. He 
fell into the hands of sharpers. He became em- 
barrassed by debt. At last a false entry is made, 
a forgery is committed, crime is perpetrated, and 
the poor young man is ingulfed in irretrieva- 
ble ruin. He had no settled purpose, no fixed 
principles, no lofty aim, and consequently was 
without moral power to say^Ko" to the solici- 
tations of the tempten 

It was my privilege, a few years ago, to become 
acquainted with the character of one whose sun 
set at noon because he had no strength of will. 
He was a genius of the highest order. He wrote 
the most beautiful poetry. He swayed multitudes 
by the most commanding and powerful eloquence. 
He stood in the front rank of popular orators. 
At the bar and at the hustings he commanded an 
influence rarely^ equaled by one of his age. He 
possessed many of the noblest qualities. He was 
brave, and chivalrous, and generous, and warm- 
hearted. His wit and humor seemed inexhaust- 



184 Our YovNa People. 

ible, and made him the life of the social circle. 
He was the idol of his party, and was regarded as 
the peer of the ablest statesmen. And yet his life 
was a failure. He yielded to temptation. He 
mingled in the lowest society. He frequented the 
most disgusting dens of infamy. With suicidal 
folly he quenched the light of his own great in- 
tellect amid the flames of alcohol. And he that 
might have walked the earth a Clay or a AVebster, 
or might have enlightened the Church with the 
genius of a Bascom, or might have adorned it 
with a minstrelsy as sweet as that of Watts or 
Charles Wesley, buried all in the cell of a ma- 
niac, and died with all the powers of a mighty 
intellect dethroned. 

Let me then urge you, my young readers, to 
have a fixed purpose. Let your aim be high. 
Look to it with an eye that never winks, a reso- 
lution that never wavers. Pursue the one great 
aim of life with an integrity Avhich nothing can 
corrupt, and a firmness which no temptation can 
weaken. 

2. You must shun the first evil influence; you 
must avoid the first false step. It is the first false 
step that ruins. Caesar paused at the brink of the 
Rubicon. It was but for a moment. The step 



1 'empta TiOSS. 185 

was taken, the plunge was made, the die was cast. 
Rome hjst her liberty, and the great captain fell 
the victim of an unbridled ambition. So it has 
been with thousands. They have paused but for 
a moment at the Ijrink of the moral llubicon 
which separated them from forbidden fields. 
They have made the plunge, and ruin has fol- 
lowed. A dissolute life is sure to end in ruin. 
The warning comes from every quarter. A pre- 
mature grave opens for all the votaries of appetite 
and passion. Seduction ends in misery. Moder- 
ate drinking terminates in drunkenness. Gam- 
bling finishes its miserable career in degradation 
and hell. And still the brothel is crowded, the 
gambling -hell is thronged, and the drinking- 
saloon counts its patrons by the thousand. It is 
the first false step that breaks through the re- 
straint of virtue, and makes the surrender to vice 
complete and perpetual. That step never taken, 
the surrender is never made. I do not say it will 
be impossible to retrace that step, to overcome an 
evil habit ; but I do say it will be much easier not 
to begin an evil course than to turn from it when 
once begun. It must be easier for the bird not to 
enter the snare of the fowler than to release itself 
after it has been caught. Even if the first step in 



186 Our Youxg Plvple. 

sin could be retraced, its consequeDces could uever 
be recalled — they must remain forever. 

A few years ago an old man was seen in the 
midst of the congregation of the Lord. It was in 
the balmy month of May. The weather was de- 
lightfully mild and pleasant. The old man was 
closely enveloped in the habiliments of winter. 
His head was covered to prevent the soft breath 
of spring from freezing his blood and chilling his 
brain. His nerves were shattered, and his consti- 
tution gone. For fifty years he had been a peni- 
tent invalid. In life's young day he had been so- 
licited to do wrong. He was in the midst of mirth 
and gayety. The voluptuous strains of music 
came over him like the voice of the siren. The 
charms of the still more voluptuous dance en- 
tranced him. He yielded. A life of dissipation 
was followed by the prodigal's return. He vainly 
hoped he might be as he once was. But no — this 
hope was never to be realized. He spent his after- 
life in vain regrets and fruitless mourning over 
hopes blasted forever. 

3. Think, I beseech you, young men, over the 
consequences of yielding to temptation. The way 
of the transgressor is hard. The consequences of 
sin are appalling. They are seen in every blighted 



Temptations, 187 

leaf and withered flower. They are witnessed in 
the storm and earthquake, in pestilence and fam- 
ine, and in all the terrible calamities of war. Just 
gaze for one moment on the fearful triumphs of 
death. They fill the land with mourning. They 
stain the soil with blood. Death stretches a scep- 
ter over all the earth. He reigns from pole to 
pole, and no one disputes his sway. He is the 
universal reaper. The whole world is his field. 
He waits not for the harvest. All times are his. 
Prattling infancy and decaying age, stalwart 
youth and robust manhood, have alike to yield to 
his touch. He visits the halls of mirth, and the 
music is hushed, and the dance ceases. He visits 
the palace, and it is hung in mourning. He enters 
the cottage, and loud lamentations are heard. At 
his command ambition looses its hold of power, 
and covetousness relaxes its grasp of wealth. At 
his touch beauty fades, the eye is lusterless, and 
the lips are silent. All times, all people, all sea- 
sons, are his; and come when he will, the unwill- 
ing victim must yield to a power from which there 
can be no escape. And death is the sad conse- 
quence of yielding to temptation. That first sin 
seemed a small affair ; it was only disobeying 
God in one little thing; but its consequences have 



]S8 Ovn Young Pi<jople, 

been felt through all the ages. They are seen in 
every tear, and heard in every sigh. The first 
wails of infancy, and the last groans of age, alike 
testify to tlie fearful consequences of sin. Had 
temptation been resisted, Eden had still bloouKxl, 
and death and misery been unknown. Think of 
this, ye tempted ones, and flee from the desti'oyer. 
These consequences flow on forever. One false 
step streams with an influence which sweeps like 
the terrible cyclone, and breaks to shreds all hu- 
man hopes. 

4. At last temptation is to be overcome by ear- 
nest prayer. Let the tempted shut out the world, 
and get alone with God in prayer. Like Jacob 
on the banks of the Jabbok, let them wrestle with 
the angel of the covenant until victory is gained 
by surrender; like Paul in the deep, pray until 
the storm is hushed, and land is reached; like 
Paul and Silas in "prison, pray until the voice of 
prayer itself is hushed in anthems of praise. I 
admit the power of fixed jjurpose, of wise counsel, 
of holy sympathy. I feel the force of all that I 
have said as to shunning the first step, and of 
never even starting toward the Pubicon ; and so I 
feel that contemplation on the dire consequences 
of sin must deter from crime. But at last, vouui]:: 



Temptations. 1S9 

men, there is more strength in the support of God's 
almighty hand than in all else besides. Prayer 
gives the strength of Him who rules the world. It 
throws around you the almighty arms, and you can- 
not fall. It drives away the tempter, and places 
you on the road. It will make you as strong as 
Elijah when he overcame the prophets of Baal, 
and victorious as Daniel Avhen prayer shut the 
mouths of the lions. It will put to flight your 
enemies, as the sword of the Lord and of Gideon 
put to flight the enemies of Israel. It imparts 
the force of truth, the energy of right, the cour- 
age of innocence, and the power of omnipotence, 
to human weakness, and assures a victory whose 
jubilant shout shall mingle forever with the song 
of redemption. 

Sustained by the purity of incorruptible princi- 
ple, and the power of our holy religion, and cast- 
ing yourselves upon the Lord, go forward in his 
great might, until the last temptation yields, and 
the last foe is conquered. Oppose all wrong; 
raise your standard high ; stand firm to your colors ; 
be true to God and yourself; and when your battle 
is fought, you shall swell the mighty throng of 
victorious Christian warriors, whose triumphant 
shout is alreadv heard on the other shore. 



190 Our Youxa People. 



DANIEL. 

A MODEL STATESMAN. 



I FEEL, as I am talking to these boys and young 
men of this land of ours, that there are those 
who might some day occupy high positions in so- 
ciety. Some will have to make the laws. They 
will be members of the Legislature or of Congress. 
Others will be judges of our courts, and others 
still may be in the mansion of the governor as 
the rulers of the State. I therefore wish to pre- 
sent to you Daniel as a model for a statesman. 

Politics are not favorable to piety. They beget 
rivalries and animosities w^hich are very unfa- 
vorable to the development of an exalted Chris- 
tian character. Still w^e must have government, 
as without it civilization could not exist, and there 
would be no security to either life or property. 
Anarchy is ruinous to all progress, and destructive 
of all virtue. We must have statesmen and ju- 
rists to enact, adjudicate, and execute the laws. 
Without such officers government could not exist. 
So, then, it may become the duty of a Christian 



Daniel. 191 

man to occupy high public positions. It may be 
required of him to be a judge or a legislator, a 
president or a king. Such a man wants a model, 
and I propose to present the character of Daniel 
as a model statesman. 

Daniel ^Yas of noble parentage. He had regal 
blood flowing in his veins. At about the age of 
twenty he was carried away captive to Babylon. 
The remainder of his life was spent in captivity. 
His high birth and splendid attainments caused 
him to be placed in the court of Nebuchadnezzar. 

The court was exceedingly corrupt; licentious- 
ness prevailed ; intemperance and lust degraded 
the monarch, and enslaved the members of his 
court; gluttony and drunkenness disqualified men 
in high places for the performance of their duties. 
In the midst of this universal corruption, Daniel 
remained pure. He did not surrender himself as 
the slave of appetite ; he was neither a drunkard 
nor a glutton ; he turned away from the richest 
luxuries and costliest viands, and partook of the 
simplest food. No member of a total abstinence 
society, no devoted Son of Temperance, ever sur- 
passed him in abstemiousness. He ignored fash- 
ions; he rose superior to his surroundings; he 
resisted temptation ; he practiced self-denial, and 



192 Our 'Young People. 

closed his ears to the seductive songs of the siren, 
and listened not to the voice of the charmer, 
" charm he never so sweetly." AVith what ineffa- 
ble beauty does this trait in the character of Dan- 
iel present itself for the admiration of the mod- 
ern statesman ! He rises and stands firm in the 
strength of a noble manhood, where thousands 
fall down — down to the level of the brute. Amid 
loud and repeated calls of appetite and passion he 
asserts the dignity and supremacy of his moral 
nature. As the mariner shows the coolest cour- 
age, the highest resolve, and the sublimest devo- 
tion to duty, only when the storm sweeps the ocean 
with the greatest violence, so did Daniel exhibit 
the highest attributes of manhood when the storm 
of passion was sweeping to ruin the entire society 
of which he was a member. 

There is a period in the life of every man 
w^hich may become sublime. That period is w^hen 
virtue is maintained without stain or blot in the 
midst of temptation. As the fortress never shows 
its full strength until the assault is made, so virtue 
never exhibits its sublime nature except when re- 
sisting attack and marching bravely forward with 
robes unstained in the midst of almost universal cor- 
ruption. Daniel was tempted : the viands smoking 



Daniel. 193 

from the king's table were offered him. Luxuries 
of every variety and degree of richness were stern- 
ly refused by him, from a most religious sense of 
duty. Have we such statesmen now? How many 
bright intellects have been stultified by intemper- 
ance ! It is the crime of the great. The English 
premier and the American senator worship at the 
same shrine, and fall into the same pit. The flag 
of the country is disgraced by drunken generals, 
and the national escutcheon is polluted by drunken 
congressmen. It palsies the tongue of the ora- 
tor, or makes it utter the incoherent w^ords of 
driveling idiocy. It makes its victim unwise in 
counsel, and imprudent in action. It unfits him 
for life's duties, and disqualifies him for its fearful 
responsibilities. It hushes the voice of conscience 
amid the storm of passion which it arouses. It 
destroys every noble purpose, and represses every 
lofty aspiration. Our country has given to the 
w^orld some noble specimens of men, w^ho were 
great in statesmanship, and free from the taint of 
intemperance. Such a man was Lewis Cass, and 
such was John C. Calhoun; such were Gov. Coll- 
ier of Alabama, and Gov. Campbell of Tennessee, 
and many others we might mention; for we do 
not say all our statesmen are given to appetite. 

1 o 
io 



194 Our Young People. 

As a man of rigid temperance, Daniel never had 
a superior, seldom an equal. 

Daniel in far-reaching sagacity was also a model 
statesman — so wise in counsel that he was the 
prime minister to three successive monarchs. 
They could not do without him. Belonging to a 
captive race, and professing a different form of re- 
ligion, he w^as still sought after as almost infallible 
in counsel. To a statesman wisdom is indispensa- 
ble. He must be able to devise plans and put in 
operation agencies which shall tell for generations 
to the good of the people. The science of govern- 
ment is so occult, and the influence of causes so 
difficult to determine, that he must indeed be a 
wise man who would always add to the glory of a 
nation, and increase its prosperity and happiness 
by his statesmanship. One false step, one unwise 
law, one impolitic scheme, one wild experiment, 
may destroy the most beautiful fabric of govern- 
ment ever reared by the skill and patriotism of 
man. Daniel w^as preferred above the presidents 
and princes because an excellent spirit was in him. 
He was faithful; neither was there any error or 
fault in him. Such is the testimony of the presi- 
dents and princes of his day. His task was a most 
delicate and difficult one. Himself a Jew, and his 



Daniel. 195 

subjects Jews, Babylonians, Medes, and Persians, 
he had to adapt his laws to the mingled population 
of this vast empire. And yet he committed no 
error in judgment, and w^as guilty of no fault or 
injustice in his administration. He must have 
had administrative ability of the highest or- 
der to force this unw^illing compliment from his 
enemies. This compliment came too when they 
were seeking his ruin. Inflexible justice, consid- 
erate kindness to the poor, an unfaltering fidelity 
to all, Avere characteristics of this prince of states- 
men. 

He threw around his hundred provinces the gir- 
dle of justice, and bound them to him by a noble 
philanthropy. He looked far into the future, and 
gave to his sovereigns counsel that would have 
saved them from ruin. He Avas faithful. He 
looked to the honor of his monarch and the good 
of his people. He faltered not in the discharge 
of duty, however unpleasant to himself, or unpal- 
atable to the king. He was no sycophant. " He 
did not bow the supple hinges of the knee that 
thrift might follow fawning." He did not cater to 
the vicious taste of a wicked ruler. He did not 
cry peace when there w^as no peace. He was no 
man- worshiper. He exposed the faults and point- 



196 Our Young People. 

ed out tlie doom of an ungodly monarcli. He in- 
terpreted the dream, though it might foretell dis- 
aster ; he read the flaming, mystic characters upon 
the plastered wall, though they struck the licen- 
tious Belshazzar dumb with fright. 

Daniel was brave. Even when danger and ca- 
lamity came, he was calm and self-poised. He was 
a stranger to fear. When the palace was filled 
with alarm, when astrologers and magicians were 
stricken with terror in the presence of the myste- 
rious handwriting along the wall, when the Medes 
and Persians came rushing like a storm on the de- 
voted city, when terror and dismay filled the hearts 
of all within the great and wealthy city of Baby- 
lon, then it was Daniel stood calm, and brave, and 
firm, exciting the admiration of the mighty con- 
queror, and winning at once his confidence. Then, 
when the conqueror had cruelly sentenced him to 
be devoured by the hungry lions, he met his fate 
like a man whom the most terrible beasts of prey 
could not alarm, nor devils themselves inspire with 
dread. 

Above all, and more than all that we have said 
of Daniel, he was a humble servant of the living 
God. He was a man of prayer ; he held constant 
and close communion with his Heavenly Father. 



Daniel. 197 

He was devoted to the fear of the Lord when all 
around was idolatrous. He gave himself to prayer 
when by doing so he disobeyed his prince, and 
brought himself in conflict with the inflexible laws 
of the Medes and Persians. His firm fidelity to 
the true God extorted even from idolatrous lips a 
decree, "That in every dominion of my kingdom 
men tremble and fear before the God of Daniel ; 
for he is the living God, and steadfast forever, and 
his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed, and 
his dominion shall be even unto the end." I would 
that all our statesmen were praying men, and that 
they put their trust in the living God. 



198 OuB Young People. 



DRAG-NET. 

A SKETCH FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOLS. 



WHY is a Sunday-school like a drag-net? Do 
you give it up, children? Because, as the 
net catches all sorts of fishes, so the Sabbath-school 
catches all kinds of children; and children are 
very much like fishes. Let us look at our Sunday- 
school drag-net, and see what kinds of fishes we 
sometimes catch. 

There is an oyster. We have but few of them. 
It is a cold, unfeeling fish, covered up in its shell. 
Did you ever see a little boy or a little girl that 
could not be made to feel? You might tell them 
of the love of a fond mother, and of the care and 
anxiety of a good father, and still they are shut up 
as in a shell, and never appear to feel the least 
gratitude for all the love bestowed upon them. 
Then you might tell them of their WTong-doing, 
of failing to obey their kind parents, of the sin of 
doing such things, and they would listen with dry 
eyes and a heart that seemed not to feel at all. 
You may tell them of the poor, that have no homes, 



Drag-net. 199 

no friends, no bread, no good, warm clothes; that 
are in want, and nigh to death; and still they would 
be hard and cold, and seem to say, " I have enough ; 
I am in a good shell, and I care not for those who 
suffer; let them suffer." You may even tell them 
about Jesus and his love, and how he suffered, and 
wept, and bled, and died, and they will still seem 
cold and careless. They are oysters, and you might 
almost swallow them, and they would not know it. 
Then here is an eel. How slippery he is ! You 
can scarcely tell whether he is a fish or a snake. 
Very much like some children, is this eel. You 
can hardly tell whether they are good or bad. One 
time you will take them to be fish; then you are 
sure they are snakes ; and they are so slippery, so 
hard to catch; and after they are caught, they are 
so diflicult to hold. It is hard to get them to the 
Sunday-school, and still harder to keep them there. 
They play truant; they slip away from home, and 
go with bad boys ; they neglect school ; they slip 
away from the lesson and the class. Then, when 
you think they are caught at some trick, they will 
tell fibs, and deceive their parents, and thus often 
escape the punishment they deserve; then they will 
go out and tell their comrades of their smartness, 
and seem to rejoice over their naughtiness, and 



200 Our Young People. 

especially if they have told some cunning lie, and 
thereby seemed to get out of trouble by getting 
deeper into sin. I hope none of you, my little 
readers, are eels or oysters. 

But just look here! We have what is called a 
mud-cat. He lives at the bottom of the river. He 
is among fish what the turkey-buzzard is among 
fowls. He feeds on carrion and filth; he never 
comes to the top ; he is a low, dirty fellow. Have 
you never seen boys of that kind? They loved the 
low, the vile, the mean; they used bad language; 
they were guilty of lying and tattling; they loved 
to hear and tell ugly things on good people. Just 
as the mud-cat would keep away from the clear 
water, from the beautiful, pebbly bottom, from 
where the sun would shed its light, and the glad, 
happy fishes w^ere playing in the river, or dashing 
with the speed of an arrow through the pool, and 
would seek the darkest den, the filthiest mud, the 
lowest, meanest place; so this low, mean boy would 
go away from the lovely and innocent sports of 
childhood, to see depravity, enjoy vileness, and sink 
deep in the mire of sin. In cities we sometimes 
get some from the muddy bottom of the social 
stream, and if any thing can save such it will be 
the Sunday-school. Yes, ray good children, if your 



Drag-net. 201 

bright faces, your sweet songs, your humble prayers, 
your own loving, precious Saviour, do not bring 
these chiklren up from the mud, and filth, and dirt, 
of sin, and make them beautiful and good, then 
they are lost, forever lost ! It is worth a trial. You 
brave boys, you gentle girls, help, O help, to save 
these poor unfortunates, Avho were born among the 
lowest, and some have lived all their lives among 
the vilest ! May Jesus help you to bring them to 
him ! 

And now we have a crawfish. See how brave 
he looks. He stretches out his horns, he moves 
like a soldier ; yes, you see he will fight. But look ! 
he is backing out ; he moves backward ; he is a 
coward ; he does not go forward ; he backslides. 
Now, I do not teach children to fight each other. 
They must fight against sin ; they must be firm to 
the right; they must not look bold, and promise 
much, and then crawfish. You have seen such. 
They will promise to come to Sunday-school, to 
learn all the lessons, to join in all the songs, to 
hear all the talks, and to be active and good. They 
start well ; but some fellow laughs at them, or sneers 
at them, or tries to scare them out of their good 
resolutions, and all at once they back out. They 
quit the Sunday-school ; they are crawfish, back- 



202 Our Youxa People. 

sliders, false to themselves, false to their parents, 
false to their God. May the good Lord have mercy 
on them! 

Then we have here in our drag-net a little shark. 
See his sharp teeth, and how fierce he looks. He is 
the terror of the sea ; he scatters, tears, and slays ; 
he devours without stint and without remorse all 
that he can catch. He represents the worst boys. 
They live by leading others to ruin ; they are the 
destroyers of Sabbath-schools ; they try to devour 
all that is good in children or lovely in youth ; they 
are the terror of the neighborhood : a mother had 
rather see her children die than give them to the 
tender mercies of one of these sharks; they will 
lead them to the lowest places, and have them revel 
with the vilest ; they will teach them to curse, and 
swear, and fight, and lie, and steal ; they ruin virt- 
ue, and blast happiness ; they are sent by the devil 
to do his worst work. I am thankful there are not 
many sharks in any of our Sabbath-schools. 

But we have many beautiful fishes in this, our 
drag-net. They come as though our Father had 
sent them, as he does vast numbers of fishes in the 
great school across the ocean. They are gathered 
in by the thousands to bless the poor, and comfort 
the rich. Thus do our precious children come, so 



DUAG-NET, 



203 



glad and happy to do the will of God. It is said 
by fishermen that millions of these fish will start, 
and take a straight course, and never turn out of 
it until they reach the shores to which God sent 
them. So to-day millions of pupils are going to 
Sunday-school, and then together in these schools 
they are going to the shores above. Soon they will 
reach the shore on which no cloud rests, where the 
sun ever shines, and God ever reigns. Go on, my 
brave boys; go on, straight on, my gentle girls, 
until heaven is gained, and you meet with all the 
good Sunday-school scholars in the home above. 



^^^M 


^^F< 


i^B 




^^^^ 


msM 


1^1 



204 Our Young People. 



NO ROOM FOR yESUS. 



WHEN Joseph and Mary arrived at Bethle- 
hem, where Christ was to be born, they 
found the inn crowded ; there was no room for Jo- 
seph, or Mary, or the infant Jesus, in the hotel ; it 
was full. In it were farmers, and shepherds, and 
merchants, and scribes, and Pharisees, Jews and 
Romans, but no room for Jesus. There never has 
been room in this world for Jesus. We have room 
for kings and queens, for generals and statesmen, 
for the rich and the poor, but no room for Jesus. 
We find that the old Greeks and Romans had room 
for Jupiter, and Mars, and Venus, but none for 
Jesus ; they could worship thieves, and robbers, 
and murderers, but could not worship the innocent 
Christ. In a great temple, or church, which they 
called the Pantheon, they had room for thirty 
thousand gods and goddesses, but Jesus was not 
there. They had a god in every grove and a god 
in every wave, a god in every field and a god in 
every house ; and their mountains, and gardens, 
and woods, and fields, w^re so full of gods that 



No Room fob Jesus, 205 

they had no room for Jesus, the only true God. 
The Jews have no room yet for Jesus. You go to 
their temple ; it is large, and costly, and beautiful ; 
but beautiful as it is, there is no room in it for the 
Saviour. Go to the churches where millions of the 
follow^ers of Mohammed worship, and in none of 
them is there room for the Babe of Bethlehem. In 
China they have room for idols, which can neither 
hear, nor see, nor speak, but none for Him who 
spake as never man spake. It is the same in Ja- 
pan. It is, if possible, worse in Africa, where they 
worship snakes and stones, but not Him who has 
placed his mighty foot upon the head of the old 
serpent, the devil. There never has been in this 
wide world room for Him that made it, and then 
redeemed it. Again I ask you, Why is this ? and 
again I answer. The world is too full of other things. 
It is full of war, and great battles, and great gen- 
erals, and often shuts out Christ. The world has 
room for riches and honors, for vice and folly, for 
shame and guilt, for robbers and murderers, but no 
room for the poor, suffering Son of God. The Jews 
were asked by Pilate, '' Will you have Jesus, or will 
you have Barabbas the robber?" The Jews an- 
swered, "Give us Barabbas, and crucify Jesus, cru- 
cify him." So the world has been asked a thousand 



206 Our Young People, 

times, Will you have Christ, or the devil, the worst 
of robbers?" and the world has answered, "Give 
us the devil; crucify Christ, crucify him." 

Now, my children, is there room in your hearts 
for Jesus? Are your hearts full of other inmates? 
If you have pride in your hearts, there is no room 
for Christ ; he cannot stay in a heart that is fall of 
pride. If you think you are some great one, that 
you are better than other people, then you are like 
the Pharisee that rejected Christ. A proud child 
turns Jesus out in the stable. Some children are 
proud because they have fine clothes. O it is a 
pity to turn Jesus out for a few feathers, and rib- 
bons, and the like! Some are proud of their good 
looks. They see their faces as they gaze in the 
mirror. They say, " I have such pretty eyes, such 
a beautiful mouth, such lovely hair, and such a 
bright complexion; O I am so pretty I " Whenever 
they talk that way, there is no room for the hum- 
ble Nazarene in their hearts. Children, you must 
not be proud. You have nothing to be proud of. 
Your beauty will soon fade; your eyes will soon be 
dim ; your cheeks will soon be pale, and wrinkled, 
and sunken ; your teeth will soon decay; your form 
will soon be bent and trembling. Do not let fool- 
ish pride keep out the Saviour. 



No Boom fob Jesus. 207 

Anger keeps Jesus out of the heart. An angry 
boy, with a curl on his lips, and scorn in his looks, 
with fire flashing from bis eye, and a frown on his 
brow, is sure to turn Jesus out of his heart. A 
boy that fights, and a girl that frets, and pouts, and 
scolds, cannot make room for Jesus. He fills the 
heart with love. He smooths the brow, makes the 
eye beam with tenderness, and the lips utter soft, 
sweet words. But anger is no companion for 
Jesus. Anger is violent, Jesus is loving. Anger 
is cruel, Jesus is merciful. Anger quarrels and 
fights, Jesus makes peace. Auger calls for curses, 
Jesus sends blessings. They cannot live in the 
same heart. I was going along the streets the 
other day, and I heard a boy cursing with the fury 
of a demon. He was pursuing another boy, and 
threatening to kill him. My blood almost ran cold 
as I unwillingly listened to the horrid curses of 
a raging boy. A tiger is not more blood-thirsty 
than was this cruel boy. He was as wicked as 
Cain, who in a fit of anger slew his good brother, 
Abel. Rash and vindictive, he would have killed 
the boy he was pursuing if he had been able to 
do so. A deep sadness came over me as I went on 
my way to the house of God. 

Here is another heart full of falsehood, and, of 



208 Oim Young People. 

course, there is no room for Jesus. A heart that 
is deceitful is like a whited sepulcher. It may 
look well without, but wdthin all is full of rotten- 
ness and dead men's bones. It is like a wolf in 
sheep's clothing. It is like a gilded cage full of 
unclean birds. Now Jesus cannot live in a filthy 
house — in a heart full of meanness and deceit, full 
of lying and deception. Deception is base; Christ 
is noble. It is like a serpent ; he is like a lamb. 
It is covered with mire and dirt; he is clothed in 
robes of spotless white. Deception is like a bird of 
evil omen ; he is gentle as the cooing dove. They 
are as unlike as light and darkness, as God and Sa- 
tan, as heaven and hell. How can two live together, 
or walk together, except they be agreed ? Jesus is 
the truth, and cannot abide in the same heart with 
any form of deception. Many a child keeps Jesus 
out of his heart by practicing arts to deceive. You 
may deceive man; you may play such pranks upon 
your parents or teachers as to deceive them, but you 
can never deceive God. His eye is on you. He 
knows your thoughts. He understands your tricks. 
He never was mistaken. The devil himself can- 
not deceive him. His Son, who is the way, the 
truth, and the life, now says, "Turn out all my 
enemies, all pride, all anger, all deception, all that 



No Boom foe Jesus. 209 

opposes God ; turn all out, and let the Heavenly 
Stranger in. Whoever turns Christ out is ruined. 
The Jews turned him out, and their proud city 
fell. Rome turned him out, and desolation came. 
France turned him out, and darkness settled 
down on her hills and valleys, while the streets of 
her great city ran with blood. Tom Paine turned 
him out, and died like a maniac, crying, " O 
Christ — if there be a Christ — have mercy on my 
soul!" The noble Altamont turned him out, and 
died, begging for just one hour in which to repent. 
So has the curse of God rested upon men and 
nations that would make no room for Jesus. I 
beseech you, children, 

Admit him ere his anger burn, 
His feet departed ne'er return ; 
Admit him, or t4ie hour's at hand 
You '11 at his door rejected stand. 

Now, I ask you, is it not a shame to turn Jesus 
out-of-doors ? Just look around you, and see where 
there is room for him in this wide world. 

In the saloon there is room for the bottle and 
the goblet, there is room for the whisky and the 
gin, but no room for Jesus. There is room for the 
drunken revel, and the midnight debauch, and the 
profane oath, but none for the Prince of Peace. 
14 



210 Our Young People. 

In the gambling-hell there is room for the cards 
and the dice, for fraud and robbery, for the ribald 
jest and wicked oath, for ruin here and here- 
after, but no room for Him who came the world 
to save. 

In the places of traffic and trade there is room 
for gold and silver, for bonds and stocks, for 
trickery and deception, but alas ! alas ! there is 
no room for the great Sealord and the great 
Landlord of the universe. In dens of infamy 
there is room for sin and iniquity, for mirth and 
laughter, for wicked passions and ugly words, but 
no room for the Friend of publicans and sinners. 

In the theater there is room for Macbeth and 
Othello, for the tragedy and the comedy, for the 
dance and the farce, for strains of music such as 
influence the passions and seduce from good, but 
no room for Him at whose birth the angelic hosts 
sent forth the sweetest song that heaven ever 
inspired, or earth ever heard. In some of our 
churches, I fear, we have room for fine dresses and 
splendid equipage, for fine choirs and grand or- 
gans, for fine preachers and great sermons, for 
sublime ceremonies and all kinds of magnificent 
display, but no room for Jesus. 

If, then, you children turn Jesus out of your 



No Room for Jesus, 211 

hearts and out of the Sabbath-school, where is he to 
go? If at last he leaves the world, dark will be its 
doom. Woe will be the day when no Sun of right- 
eousness shall shed its light, nor pour its warming 
b€ams, upon the home of man. By his love fo? 
children, by his words of merciful invitation, by his 
tears of compassion, by the blood he shed, and by 
his awful death, I beg you make room for Jesus; 
make room for him if it costs you every thing; 
make room for him if you have no other friend. 
He will be a friend, sticking closer than a brother. 
He will make the heart glad. He wull pour upon 
the soul a tide of joy whose flow shall be perpetual 
and pure. Open the door, and let him in. AVith 
him to aid, you can fight and conquer. With him, 
you shall enter at last into the house of many 
mansions, where there is room for Jesus and all 
his followers. 



212 OuB Young People. 



RELIGION FOR THE YOUNG. 



IT is said by Solomon, after he had tried every 
pursuit, and found all to be vanity, " Remem- 
ber now thy Creator in the days of thy youth/' 
He uses the word Remember in a broad sense. It 
means all that is implied in being religious. Some 
children think religion is designed only for grown- 
up people ; others, that it suits old people, and no 
one else. But Solomon thought religion was suited 
to the young. I think so too. Nearly all of God's 
promises are to the young. In youth the heart is 
tender; it is easily touched; but in age it grows 
hard, and the wicked old man can truly say: 

The rocks can rend, the mountains shake, 
Of feeling all things show some sign 
But this unfeeling heart of mine. 

In early life the habits are not like chains, to bind 
one to sin and death. They are not like cable- 
ropes, which a giant could not break. They are 
then like cobwebs, which an infant can easily 
brash away. In early life the faculty of being 



Religion for the Young. 213 

religious, or rather the power to be religious, is not 
destroyed. Now you know, children, that if you 
were not to use your hand for a year, you would 
not be able to use it at all. If you w^ere to stay in 
the dark, or cover up your eyes so that you could 
not see for a long time, you would lose your pow- 
er of seeing. If any of our little boys or girls 
were to stop using their tongues for a long time, 
they would get so they could not talk at all. Now 
every child is blest with a power to be religious, 
to repent, to believe, to love. He can learn to use 
that power just as he can learn to walk, to use his 
hands, or eyes, or tongue; but if he refuses to use 
it until he becomes old, he may get so after awhile 
that he cannot use it at all — it will wither away 
like a hand that has not been used for years. So, 
then, it is just as needful to learn to be religious 
as to learn to talk, or to walk, or to do any thing 
that is right and proper to be done. 

A few years ago, in the State of Alabama, there 
was a camp-meeting, at which there were many 
preachers. Among the number was the Rev. A. E, 
He w^as a man of God. He was richly gifted with 
the highest qualities of mind. He was appointed 
to preach at a certain hour ; and he did preach, 
not coldly, but with great warmth and zeal. He 



214 Our Young People, 

appealed to sinners to turn to God and live. He 
presented Christ as their only hope. He stood 
behind the cross, and showed it all stained with 
blood. He pointed to the last judgment, and 
called upon the vast congregation, ** Prepare to 
meet your God." He called them to repentance 
with all the zeal of an apostle. But no one came. 
He sat down, while the most solemn awe rested upon 
the congregation. Just at this time an old man 
from a distant part of the large congregation was 
seen approaching the altar. His hair was white, 
and hung uncombed and disordered down over his 
neck; his face was withered with age; his jaws 
were hollow and sunken ; his steps were feeble and 
slow ; his form, once erect and tall, was now low 
and bent, and he leaned upon a staff. Trembling 
from head to foot, he turned to the congregation, 
and said, " Look at me, and take w^arning. I can- 
not repent now ; it is too late ; I am too old, too 
hard, too near the grave. I am lost I there is no 
mercy for me. Once I could have been saved ; 
once I could have repented ; once I felt as you 
now feel ; but now I have only one feeling — it is 
despair. Young people, take warning by me, and 
repent while you can.'' There was no tear in his 
eye, no tenderness in his heart, no faith, no hope. 



Religion for the Young, 215 

He had refused when God had counseled, and now 
it was too late ! too late ! The door was shut ; he 
could not enter now. I beg you, then, remember 
your Creator in the days of your youth, before 
the evil days come, when you shall say, I have no 
pleasure in them. 

Some children are afraid to be religious; they 
think that all good children die young. In some 
Sabbath-schoobstory-books, pious children are sent 
to early graves : these stories make an impression 
upon you, and you say, " Well, I will wait awhile." 
Children, let me assure you that early piety never 
killed anybody yet ; it never will. Religion is not 
like arsenic : it is sin that is the poison ; sin kills. 
If there had been no sin, there would have been 
no death. 

Among the preachers in the Tennessee Confer- 
ence is the Rev. J. B. M. I have known him 
more than forty years. He was a preacher when I 
was a little boy. He joined the Church when he 
w^as ten years old ; at the same time he professed 
religion. He was the best of boys ; he became the 
best of men. He is now more than seventy years 
old, and his life has been spent in the service 
of God. He has preached more than fifty years. 
Religion has not shortened his life, nor does it 



216 Our Yovng People, 

shorten the life of any one. The stories that kill off 
all good children are false, and ought to be burned. 
ISTo, boys, you must not be afraid to be religious. 
Old Brother J. B. M. is a sound man, and he may 
live many years; he has a good conscience; if he 
looks at the past, it is bright and beautiful; if 
he looks at the future, all is well. The children 
love him ; the young preachers look up to him as 
wise and good ; the old regard him with holy rev- 
erence. His morning-life was brightened by the 
light of early piety ; his noon shone with the 
brightness of a pure life ; and now his evening is 
calm and serene, with no cloud on his sky, and no 
fear of the night, for he knows there is no fear 
where he is going. 

About forty years ago, at a camp-meeting in the 
South, there were many souls converted to God, 
and among them was a little brown-eyed girl, just 
seven years of age. She was very small and very 
beautiful. She looked so like a little angel that her 
father raised her up in his arms, and with a brim- 
ming heart and tearful eyes bid the congregation 
behold what religion could do for childhood. She 
clapped her little hands, and with a sweet modesty 
gave all the honor to Jesus. She grew up to be a 
beautiful woman. She remained true to her first 



Religion for the Young. 217 

love. She was well educated — was polished after 
the similitude of a palace, as the Bible says. She 
is the wife of a Bishop, and the mother of a large 
family. When her husband was called by the 
Church to fill the highest office, and to sacrifice 
the comforts of a delightful home^ and travel all 
over the land, she without a murmur met the re- 
sponsibilities of her place. Firm, pious, true, she 
consecrated herself to God, and brought up her 
children in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord. Now, in life's decline, she is still young, 
and would scarcely be recognized as a matron of 
fifty summers. 

Then be assured, my beloved ones, that w^hile 
religion will make you ready to die, it will not 
shorten your life one moment. 

Remember your Creator. He is good. He has 
given you good parents and sweet homes. He has 
blest you with health, and peace, and friends. He 
gives you food and clothing. But for him there 
would be no rain, no sunshine ; there would be no 
flowers, no fruits. He gives you all that you have. 
Will you not love him ? More than this, he so loved 
the world as to give his Son, Jesus of Nazareth, to 
die for you. I pray you, by the love of the Father, 
and by the life, and sufferings, and death of his 



218 



Our Young People. 



Son, our Saviour, remember him, honor him, live 
for him, die for him, and then he will be certain 
to remember you. He will remember you even if 
your father and your mother should forget you. 
He will remember you even down to old age. He 
will remember you even in the hour of death. He 
will not forget you in the morning of the resur- 
rection. 



The Bible. 219 



THE BIBLE. 

ITS CLAIMS UPON OUR YOUNG PEOPLE. 



THE Bible comes to you, first of all, as a book 
of taste, abounding in beauty that is faultless, 
and in sublimity that is unequaled. Its poetry rises 
to the grandeur of the epic, the majesty of the tragic, 
and the splendor of the lyric. It charms by its 
vivid descriptions, excites by its deep-toned pathos, 
elevates by its ennobling sentiments, soothes by its 
tenderness, and melts by its wondrous love. Sweet- 
er than Virgil, sublimer than Homer, more vivid 
than Sophocles, more powerful than ^schylus, the 
poetry of the Bible embodies all that is bold in 
conception, fascinating in sacred fiction, artless in 
truth, glowing in imagination, and vehement in 
passion. It is the bright sun from w^hich Milton 
and Shakespeare borrow their divine efiiilgence. 
Its visions of beauty have inspired the genius of 
our greatest painters, guided the chisel of our most 
gifted sculptors, and awakened the harps of our 
best composers. But for it the richest gems of 
poetry would never have sparkled in the sunlight 



220 Our Young People. 

of heaven, the pencils of West and Raphael had 
lain idle forever, and the melodies of Mozart and 
Beethoven had been as silent as the grave. The 
literature of the Bible is not only beautiful in 
itself, but it is as prolific of beauty as its own 
Carmel and Sharon. It not only sends out the 
most beautiful and effulgent light that ever beamed 
from sun or star, but has sent those rays in dazzling 
splendor from a thousand orbs which shed their 
glories upon the world of mind. 

This grand old book abounds not only in poetry 
and song, but claims the admiration of our young 
people because of its exhibiting the finest speci- 
mens of eloquence. The simple and earnest ap- 
peals of Moses, the touching plea of Judah, the 
direct and effectual rebuke of Nathan, the severe 
irony of Solomon, the magnificent figures of 
Ezekiel, Isaiah, and Habakkuk, the powerful de- 
scriptions of Job, the fiery passions of Peter, the 
sublime visions of John, the lucid logic of Paul, 
the wonderful parables, and bold and blighting 
i^eproofs of the great Teacher, present to us exhi- 
bitions of oratory at once the most varied, grand, 
and profound. 

The Bible is emphatically the great reservoir 
of history and biography, of parable and fable, of 



The Bible, 221 

essay and epistle, of poetry and eloquence, and by 
its beauties in them all appeals to the taste of all 
cultivated young people. The varied presentations 
which are given in its pictured pages of God and 
angels, of the universe and man, of heaven and 
hell, are like so many dissolving scenes in a pano- 
rama. Its various groupings of facts, characters, 
and incidents, remind one of the countless images 
formed by the revolutions of the kaleidoscoj)e. 
A consideration rising above all that is refined 
and elegant in taste, and which appeals still more 
strongly, is that the Bible is the book of God. It 
is the bright candle of the Lord, the lamp of eter- 
nity; it shines with a brightness before which all 
other lights grow pale. It is a voice from the lips 
of eternal truth, and its echoes, like the peals of 
an organ, proclaim the glory of God, and the duty 
and destiny of man. Its truth is above all cavil, 
and beyond all controversy, and has been estab- 
lished by every sort of testimony v/hich could be 
accepted by reason and embraced by faith. As 
the book of truth — grand, majestic, eternal truth 
— it presses its claims upon you with an eloquence 
which no mortal can equal, no angel can surpass. 
Listen to these mute and eloquent appeals as they 
come from pages written by the pen of inspiration, 



222 Our Young People, 

and glowing with the highest evidences of the di- 
vinity of their origin. 

It is emphatically the book of life ; it is vital 
in every part; it breathes life on every page, and 
quickens to action the livid corpse of our humanity. 
It illumines what is dark, corrects what is false, 
elevates what is low, ennobles what is mean, and 
eradicates what is corrupt. It imparts courage to 
the timid, strength to the feeble, firmness to the 
wavering, hope to the sorrowing; enables all who 
accept its truths, and imbibe its sacred principles, 
to meet the stern demands of conscience, and obey 
the uncompromising law of duty. It enters the 
social circle, and closes the lips of falsehood, and 
hushes the tongue of slander. It promotes domes- 
tic peace, unites the members of the household, 
sanctifies the marriage relation, and perfects the 
bliss of wedded love. It gives mildness to the 
constitution, purity to the government, and justice 
to the laws. It evokes those sympathies which seek 
satisfaction alone in doing good. It has imparted 
strength and courage to the character of man, and 
purity and dignity to that of woman. It builds its 
asylums for the blind and the deaf, for the widow 
and the orphan, and its houses of reformation for 
the vicious. It enters the camp, and spreads its 



The Bible, 223 

influence over the tented field. It builds the hos- 
pital for the disabled soldier, and stretches out 
its hands of benevolence to the homeless and the 
sorrowing. It seeks to hush the roar of cannon, 
and to arrest the march of contending armies, by 
giving universal peace to man. It has imparted 
to America all she has of glory, while all she has 
of shame arises from a neglect of this grand old 
book. It has made England the foremost nation 
on the earth, and recently, when a foreign princess 
asked her noble queen to tell her the secret of 
England's powder, she pointed not to her standing 
armies, or her ships of war sailing over every sea, 
but sent to her a copy of the Bible, accompanied 
by the remark — as immortal as truth itself — 
"Here is the secret of England's power." 

The Bible is especially the book of Avoman. 
From Eve, the mother of all living, to Mary, the 
mother of Jesus, w^oman always occupies a con- 
spicuous place in the great drama of the world's 
redemption. Here she is seen wdth shrinking mod- 
esty, untiring energy, and gentle firmness, fulfill- 
ing her mission as daughter, sister, wife, and moth- 
er. And to you, young W'Omen of my own native 
South, the Bible presents singular claims. It 
contains treasures which no ruthless enemy can 



224 Our Young People, 

destroy, principles which no revolutions can change, 
and fires which no time can waste, or waters quench. 
Amid universal desolation the Bible comes to re- 
flame the torch of hope, and revive the altars of 
devotion ; to irradiate every countenance with joy, , 
and fill every bosom with peace. It paints the 
clouds of the future with roseate hues, and sustains 
the sorrows of the present with a strength which God 
alone can impart. It never shines with such luster 
as when it brightens the dark clouds of adversity, 
and spans the heavens with a bow of promise. 

And now let me say to you, my dear young 
friends, for whom I have written all this, my hope 
for my country, my hope for the South, the land 
of my birth and the graves of my sires, around 
which cluster so many sad memories and so many 
halloAved associations, is in this great and good 
book, and in its influence upon our brave men and 
pure women. I beseech you, neglect it not. Give 
up any other book before you surrender this; love 
it as one of the richest boons God ever gave ; claim 
its sweet and precious promises; rise to its high 
standard of Christian character ; practice its holy 
precepts ; worship its Divine Author; enjoy its sa- 
cred consolations ; claim its God as your God, and 
may its heaven be your reward ! 



Decision of Character. 225 



DECISION OF CHARACTER. 



IN discussing decision of character, I feel I am 
discharging a duty which I owe to American 
youth, to my country, and to my God. 

I do not meaa by decision of character, foolish 
and presumptuous self-confidence, but a reasonable 
and firm self-reliance. Weigh a subject well, and 
do not rush hastily to a conclusion. Examine 
carefully both sides of every question. Then, after 
weighing all the arguments calmly and deliberately, 
form your own conclusions, and decide upon your 
own conduct. You must depend upon your own 
judgment, or your purposes will be changed as 
often as you meet with one who differs in opinion. 

Cultivate, iu the next place, moral courage. I 
do not mean by this that feeling which inspires a 
thirst for blood, which manifests itself in the use 
of deadly weapons, or which rashly seeks the death 
of an opponent. I do not believe in the code of 
honor ; I despise the character of the duelist ; I 
loathe the monster who, like Cain, is stained with 
his brother's blood ; but I admire personal bravery. 
15 



226 Our Young People. 

I honor the man who in these degenerate times can 
go forward in the discharge of duty — who can go 
wherever it calls, even to the brink of the volcano, 
or to the very jaws of death. To meet the sneers 
of infidelity, or to withstand the world's dread 
laugh, requires the highest moral courage. Speak- 
ing of the influence which ridicule exerts, Sydney* 
Smith says, " I know of no principle which it is of 
more importance to fix in the minds of young peo- 
ple than that of the most determined resistance to 
the encroachments of ridicule. Learn from your 
earliest days to inure your principles against the 
perils of ridicule. You can no more exercise your 
reason, if you live in constant dread of laughter, 
than you can enjoy your life if you are in constant 
terror of death. If you think it right to dififer 
from the times, and to make a stand for a valuable 
point of morals, do it, however rustic, however 
pedantic, it may appear; do it not for insolence, 
but seriously, grandly, as a man w^ho has a soul 
of his own in his bosom, and did not wait until 
it was breathed in him by the breath of fash- 
ion. Let men call you mean, if you know you are 
just ; hypocritical, if you know you are honestly 
religious; and pusillanimous, if you feel you are 
pure." Never in the history of our country has 



Decision of Chabacteb, 227 

there been more need of high moral courage than 
there has been at this time. Infidelity is bold and 
defiant, and crime startles us by its fierceness and 
its brazen effrontery. It is found in every party, 
and stains the garments of every sect ; it pollutes 
the domestic circle, and severs the holiest ties; 
it is as regardless of human obligation as it is of 
a lofty public sentiment; it enters into Congress- 
halls, and degrades the temples of justice ; it vio- 
lates public faith, and disregards private confidence. 
Person, property, reputation, character, and life it- 
self, are 'alike disregarded. We need courageous 
men and brave women to set their faces as flint 
against the prevalence of crime. The moral at- 
mosphere needs purification. We need some great 
moral chemist to apply such disinfectants as shall 
destroy the deadly germs which are constantly 
breeding a moral plague worse than the poison of 
asps or the fearful yellow fever. Courage is need- 
ed to meet every form of vice wdth a nerve that 
never flinches, and a firmness that never yields. 
Fortitude is equally needed in the cultivation of 
decision of character. To you, my dear young 
friends, the present and the future are full of joy 
and hope. The sea on which you are about to 
launch sparkles brightly beneath a cloudless sky. 



228 Our Young People, 

and is calm and peaceful. But clouds will come, 
storms will rise, dangers will assail, and adversity 
will place you beneath a pressure unsupportable. 
Unappreciated by the community in which you 
live, you may be left, as thousands have been, to 
pine in penury, unhonored and uncared for. Prov- 
idence may seem to frown, and your best efforts 
may be fruitless. Afflictions must come to all in 
this world of ours, and fortitude is needed to bear 
them. Sustained by this principle, the sorrows of 
life, the opposition of enemies, and the hypocrisy 
of pretended friends, will all be borne without a 
murmur, and with an assurance of hope which 
keeps the spirits calm, and the character firm. 

During these discussions, I have often urged 
upon you to love the truth. I again present its 
divine claims. A liar is a coward, and no coward 
can have decision of character. But let the trutli 
be deeply imbedded in the heart; let it rule in 
the conscience, and glow upon the lips ; let it give 
direction to every thought, flow along the current 
of every feeling, and the everlasting hills would, 
bow, and the granite mountains totter to their fall, 
sooner than you. A true man never falls. A true 
woman rises above the petty ills and storms of life, 
and moves upon the brightest plane of human 



Decision of Character, 229 

action. In cultivating decision of character, it is 
well to reflect upon some great historical personage, 
and endeavor to reach the highest standard. It 
seems to me that one can scarcely fail to feel the 
importance of decision, when he contemplates such 
a character as the Apostle Paul. It is his unfalter- 
ing decision which shines out at all times and on 
all occasions; it gives him command of men, and 
control over circumstances ; it takes away the dread 
of the storm, and the gloom of the prison ; it im- 
parts presence of mind in the midst of dangers, 
and gives him serenity in the presence of death. 
It was decision of character which gave to the 
Christian martyrs a triumph such as no conqueror 
ever won ; it made Luther a reformer, and made 
John Wesley the founder of the greatest Protestant 
denomination in Christendom ; it made Washington 
the Father of his Country, and gave to Andrew 
Jackson his heroic character. Decision made New- 
ton an astronomer, and Hugh Miller a geologist ; 
it made Arnold the great teacher, and Sir Will- 
iam Hamilton the great scholar. And I dare say 
that no man without decision ever left a great 
impress upon society. Let me urge, in conclusion, 
that you do not cultivate decision at the expense 
of the milder affections. Be gentle as you are firm, 



230 Our Young People. 

and afFectionate as you are decided. Be kind to the 
loved ones at home. Listen to the words of the 
celebrated Dr. Nott, which he uttered to a class 
of young men: "Spirits of my sainted parents, 
could I recall the hours when it was in my power 
to honor you, how different should be my conduct! 
Ah ! were not the dead unmindful of the reverence 
the living pay them, I would disturb the silence 
of your tombs with mighty orisons, and bedew the 
urn which contains your ashes with perpetual 
tears." Let, then, filial love unite with your de- 
cision, amiability blend with pureness, and gushing 
tenderness with invincible determination. To all 
this, I beseech you, add the influence of our holy 
religion. Be Christians, decided and true; make 
Christ your highest and best example ; go forward 
in his great might. Write Excelsior on your ban- 
ners, and rest never until the world shall feel your 
saving influence. 



Eedemption Made Plain. 231 



REDEMPTION MADE PLAIN. 

A SERMON FOR SUNDA Y-SCHOOLS, 



'^Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be 
saved/' Acts xvi. 31. 

I AM going to preach to you this morning. You 
must pay attention. If you will listen closely, 
and not be thinking of something at home, you will 
be sure to understand me. I think I can preach 
to you on the great theme of your salvation, and 
be so simple that even the smallest child will be 
able to understand this sermon. I want to show 
you what Christ is to you, and then I want to show 
you what you must be to Christ in order to be 
saved. Christ is your Saviour. Let me make this 
plain to you. 

Once, in a certain school, the law was that if a 
scholar disobeyed the master, he was to stand in the 
corner of the school-room for half an hour. His face 
was to be to the wall, and he was not to speak a word 
for the whole time. A boy disobeyed. He was a 
weakly, sickly lad, and was hardly able to stand 
still so long a time. But the law must be obeyed 



232 OvR Young People, 

in the school. There was a strong, healthy boy, 
who was as generous as he was strong. He looked 
upon the poor, pale boy, who had done wrong, and 
he pitied him. He said, "Master, I will stand for 
John. Let me go to the corner, and put my face 
to the wall. I will be glad to do it/' But the 
master said, "You did -not disobey me; it was 
John." "I know that, but please let me stand in 
John's place." Then all the scholars spoke up, 
and said, '^Let Henry take the place of John; he 
is able, he is willing: we will not charge you with 
injustice. Let the strong boy stand for the weak 
one." So the master said, " Well, Henry, go in 
the corner, and put your face to the wall, and 
stand until I tell you to sit down." So Henry W'cnt 
and stood in the corner until the master said, " It 
is enough; sit down, Henry." Now the master 
said^ "John, go stand in the corner." " No, no," 
said the school, "Henry has saved him from that: 
it will not be right for Jolm to stand, for you 
agreed to let Henry take his place." So the mas- 
ter consented to it, and then he said, "My dear 
children, Henry has done a noble act. He must 
love John very much. He stood in the corner in 
his stead before the whole school. Let me tell you 
that in that conduct he has been like — whom has 



Eedemption Made Plain, 233 

he been like? Tell me." " He has been like Jesus. 
He stood in the corner for us all/' '' That is it," 
said the master. " When Jesus died on the cross 
for sinners, he took our place ; he stood for us." 

Suppose it had been still worse than that. Sup- 
pose the law had been for John to receive a severe 
whipping for his disobedience, and suppose Henry 
had come forward, and said, "Master, I will take 
that whipping; I can bear the blows; you may 
strike so as to draw blood; I will bear it" — and 
the master had given him the stripes, and had act- 
ually drawn out his blood by his heavy blows — do 
you not see that Henry would have been John's 
saviour, because he took his place, and bore his 
punishment? Now just so Jesus took our place, 
and suffered for us. The apostle says, " He tasted 
death for every man." May be I can explain this. 
When the Apostle Paul used that language, it 
had been the custom to put criminals to death by 
making them drink poison. You may have heard 
of the great and good Socrates. He was made to 
drink a cup of hemlock, a deadly poison; hence 
he was said to taste of death, and all who were put 
to death in this manner were said to taste death. 
If there were many criminals, they were all placed 
in a long row. The worst man was placed at the 



234 Our Youxg People. 

head, and made to drink first. Then the cup was 
passed ak^ng down, until all had taken a cup of 
poison. Now, in this language of the Apostle Paul, 
all men are represented as sinners deserving death. 
The sentence has been pronounced ; they are made 
to stand in one long row; the executioner comes 
with a great cup of poison, of death. Christ stands 
at the head of the row, first in the list, as though 
he were the chief of sinners. The executioner 
hands him the cup, and says, " Drink." He drinks ; 
he drains the cup; he drinks every drop; he tastes 
death for all the rest. The cup does not pass down, 
for it is empty. Jesus in the garden, Jesus on the 
cross, tasted death for us all. Then he is our Sav- 
iour: we need not suficr forever; we need not die 
eternally ; it is easy for us to be saved. The text 
says, " Believe, and thou shalt be saved.'' It means, 
as Jesus is your Saviour, you nuist trust him, lean 
on him, and he will save you. Now I want to 
make you understand what you must be to Christ 
in order to be saved. 

A little boy was passing by a dark cellar. He 
looked down, but he could see nothing. He heard 
a noise. He looked again, but all was dark. He 
said, ''Papa, is that you?'' ''Yes, my son," said 
the well-known voice of his father, ''come down 



Redemption Made Plain, 235 

here." "0 papa," said the boy, "I am afraid! it 
is so dark I cainiot see you at all!" "But," said 
the father, "nothing shall hurt you. I can see you 
plainly. Just come right along ; I will catch you 
in my arms." After another moment the boy 
leaped into the arms of love. He was glad, for 
he was with his father, and felt that he could 
always trust him, in the dark or in the light, in the 
cellar or on the house-top. JSTow, children, that is 
faith. You can believe that way in your father, 
why can you not believe in your Heavenly Father 
— in Jesus, your Saviour? 

You cannot see Jesus with your natural eyes, 
just as that little boy could not see his father in 
the cellar. That boy walked by faith, and was 
caught in the bosom of his father. Jesus says, 
" Leap into my arms ; throw yourself on my bosom ; 
nothing can hurt you ;* I will take care of you ; 
trust me." 

Going back to our boy that stood in the corner, 
would it be hard for the boy in whose place he 
stood to trust him as his best friend? I think not. 
Would it not be easy to trust the boy who had gone 
to the master, and said, " I will take that whipping " ? 
How could a criminal help trusting a friend that 
had taken his place, and suffered for him? This 



236 Our Young People. 

is all you are asked to do: Believe in Him, and 
you shall be saved. 

I will give you one more illustration of this 
whole subject. Two men w^ere together digging a 
well. After digging to the depth of twenty feet, 
they came to a solid rock. It became necessary to 
use gunpowder. By boring a hole in the rock, and 
putting in a large amount of gunpowder, they 
could burst the rock all to pieces, and then could 
go on digging the well. This is called blasting. 
So they prepared for it. They pecked a deep hole 
in the rock. They put in a pound of gunpowder, 
and they set what is called a match, which would 
require some time to burn to the gunpowder. One 
of the men was very wicked, and the other was 
deeply pious. They were in the habit of being 
drawn up by a man at the top of the well who 
turned a windlass. At no time had they been 
drawn up together. They prepared a basket large 
enough for them both. After they had set the 
match, they both got into the basket, but the man 
at the top was too weak; he could not move the 
windlass. The good man saw the situation, and he 
determined to die for his friend. He leaped from 
the basket, and the other was quickly drawn to the 
top. By a strange providence both were saved. 



Redemption Made Plain, 237 

Now here was a man willing to give his life for the 
other. Suppose that some time after that they 
were both at sea, and the w^icked man should fall 
overboard, and the other, quick as thought, w^ere to 
throw him a rope. Now would the drowning man 
hesitate? No, indeed. He lays hold of the rope, 
for he knows that his old friend has the other end. 
He can trust him. If he delays one moment, he 
may be lost. A fierce shark, that has been follow- 
ing the ship for days, is making right for him, wdth 
open mouth. He can trust his friend, but not the 
shark. He says, " I have hold of the rope ; draw 
me up.'' The good friend pulls away, and raises 
the poor drowning man to the deck of the ship. 

Just so are we overboard, and He that wdllingly 
suffered death for you stands on the old ship of 
Zion, and says, ''I throw you the rope of faith. 
Lay hold; I will bring you safe on board. That 
is all you have to do." Now, as you read these 
lines, you must trust Him. Now the old ship waits. 
The Captain says, "Lay hold!" Every sailor on 
board says, "Lay hold!" She has landed many 
thousand ; she Avill land as many more. You will 
be saved — saved here, saved hereafter — if you will 
put your trust in the Lord Jesus Christ. No one 
ever trusted him in vain. 



238 Our Young People. 

In olden times there was a great King, who ruled 
over many lands. He w^as powerful. Among his 
possessions was a beautiful island. It was rich in 
every thing, pleasant to look upon. Its flowers 
were the sweetest and the most beautiful; they 
W'ere of every color, and they scented the air with 
their sweetness. The fruits were hanging in clusters 
on trees and vines. The birds w^ore the brightest 
plumage, and caroled the sweetest songs. The air 
w^as soft and balmy as perpetual spring ; the fierce 
heat of summer was never felt; the frosts of winter 
never blasted fruit or flower. The sun shone bright 
and w^arm, and gave to every thing a gay appear- 
ance. No storm ever swept over the island ; no 
earthquake ever frightened bird or beast. Death 
itself was unknown. No place in all the vast do- 
minions of the great King was more beautiful than 
this delightful island. The sea that flowed around 
was never lashed by tempests; its waters were as 
calm, and its chimes as sweet, as the sea that John 
saw spread out in beauty around the eternal throne. 
The bright sky, the pure air, the gay birds, the 
lovely flowers, the luscious fruits, the clear, spark- 
ling waters, w^ould have made it a fit dwelling for 
angels. There was every thing to make one happy, 
and nothing to bring misery. But no human being 



Eedemption Made Plain. 239 

had ever looked upon that lovely scene. No one 
had ever inhaled those sweets, or walked amid 
those rosy bowers. The King determined to give 
the whole island to a happy pair, that they and 
their children might enjoy it forever. To one man 
and one woman, as husband and wdfe, he said, 
"This is yours. Keep it, and be happy/' The 
man seemed worthy of such a gift. He w^as noble 
in his appearance; his form was without a fault. 
Tall, erect, and graceful, he moved like a king 
along these beautiful w^alks, and amid these groves, 
that echoed with the songs of birds, and waved 
their green foliage in the summer sunshine. His 
wife was still more beautiful. You have read of 
sylphs, and houries, and fairies, but she was more 
beautiful than they all. Upon such a face none 
of you ever looked. The sweet babe, that looks 
up from its mother's arms, and fills you with delight 
by its beauty and innocence, is not so sweet in its 
innocent beauty as was this w^oman. Love, gentle- 
ness, grace, and intelligence, all played upon her 
beautiful face like smiles upon the face of child- 
hood. A poet, speaking of her, said, " There was 
grace in all her steps, heaven in her eye, and in 
every gesture dignity and love." She loved her 
husband with a true devotion, and he loved her 



240 Our Young People. 

with the greatest tenderness. Together they sat, 
and communed of the beauty of their island and 
the goodness of their King. They never grew 
tired of these joyous scenes. They could roam 
anywhere without fear. Often their King would 
visit them, and add to their happiness by words of 
love and still greater wisdom than they had reached. 
They loved him, and would get up close to him, 
and would vie with each other in tender embraces 
of him who had conferred so much happiness upon 
them. During these conversations the King would 
caution them not to eat of the fruit of a certain 
tree: it was poisonous, and would be sure to kill 
them. He took them, and showed them the tree, 
and pointed out how terrible it would be for them 
to touch its deadly fruits. ^'It will kill you, my 
children," said the King; ^*it will kill you." So 
they kept away from the tree. 

Strange to say, that King, so good to all, had an 
enemy. He was a cruel, bad person, that desired 
to do the King and all good people mischief. He 
hated every one that was happy. He despised the 
happy couple to whom the King had given the 
favorite spot of earth. He determined upon their 
ruin. One day he found the woman alone. He 
said to her, ^^Can you eat of the fruit of any tree 



Redemption Made Plain. 241 

on the island ? " " Of all but one," said the woman. 
'^Why not eat of that?'' "The King said we 
must not." "But I say you must; it will do you 
good ; it is not poisonous. You^ King lied ; he is 
afraid you will become as great as he is. Eat it. 
You will be wise, you will be great, if you just eat 
that fruit." The bad fellow then pulled down a 
limb, and plucked an apple from the poisonous 
tree. He handed it to the woman, and she ate it. 
He left her, and she carried some of the same fruit 
to her husband, and he too ate of it. Soon they 
heard the King coming, but they did not wish to 
see him. They hid in the thick groves, and when 
he called them, they did not answer at first, they 
felt so guilty; but after awhile the man answered, 
"Here we are." But O how changed! Shame 
covered their faces; guilt filled them with confu- 
sion. Poison w^as in the fruit: it changed the 
whole island ; it was no longer lovely. The flowers 
withered; the fruit becam.e bitter; the air was 
dark; the beasts changed, and became savage and 
dangerous; the whole heavens put on a garb of 
mourning. The King was angry, and yet he loved 
them. He had a Son, a dear Son, an only Son, 
and the Son said, "Father, I will save that sinful 
pair, and I will bless their children ; I will suffer 
16 



242 Our Young People. 

what they deserve to suffer for this disobedience ; 
I will conduct them away from this island, which 
they have ruined ; I will lead them to a still better 
place, where this great enemy of yours can never 
come." " Go, then, my Son, and do this. You are 
indeed the brightness of my glory, and my very 
image. Go on this noble mission." ^^I will go if 
it costs me my life." " It will cost you your life," 
said the Father, "for justice demands that, and 
justice must be satisfied." The Son went on this 
great mission, and saved a fallen race by one great 
act of love. 

Now, children, I have told you this story to show 
you God's love for you. The happy island was the 
garden of Eden ; the King was our Heavenly 
Father ; the happy pair were Adam and Eve ; the 
great enemy was the devil; the King's Son was 
Jesus Christ, v/ho came to save us, and lead us all 
to heaven. We did not know the way, and he 
taught it to us. He gave us the Bible, and that is 
our guide-book to direct us. We were weak ; we 
were on the ground, and could not rise. He gives 
us his Holy Spirit, to raise us up, and give us 
strength for the way. He took our place, and bore 
our sins. He is the Friend that sticketh closer 
than a brother. He is pure, and gentle, and good. 



Bedemptiox Made Plaix. 243 

He loves you more than I can tell. He died on 
the cross for children — for all children. 

If any king had done as our Heavenly Father 
has done, and his Son our Saviour has done, would 
not any people be bad and very sinful who would 
fail to love that king? or to kiss that son, lest he 
should be angry ? Now, I beg you, love the King ; 
honor the Saviour; work for Jesus; look on the 
Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the . 
world. He will take you to a place brighter than 
ever Eden was : angels will sing sweeter songs than 
were caroled by the birds of paradise; angels of 
light, floating in bliss, will invite you all to sail 
on active wings, and rejoice as you look up to 
Him who hath done all things well. Children, 
you have lost Eden, but you can gain heaven. 
Christ's promises are sure; claim them, and be 
happy. 



2M Our Young People, 



THE PRODIGAL SON. 



THE WARNING, 

THE parable of the prodigal son is almost 
inimitable. It touches us by its simplicity 
and naturalness. It is at once a warning and an 
invitation. The career of the prodigal is painted 
as by the hand of an artist. The various conse- 
quences of a reckless life are presented with all 
the vividness of truth. The readiness of the father 
to forgive is as natural as it is affecting. The joy 
that followed the reception of the prodigal is 
wonderfully illustrative of the joy in heaven over 
a repentant sinner. 

^In this sketch I hope to exhibit such points in 
the downward career of the prodigal as may deter 
the young from a course of sin, and so to present 
his restoration to the home of his father as to in- 
duce the wanderer to return to Him who tenderly 
offers forgiveness, even to the most profligate and 
fallen. 

1. The prodigal is represented as a restless son ; 



The Prodigal Son. 245 

he is impatient of restraint ; he can take care of him- 
self, and is capable of managing his own business; 
he admits no longer the necessity of parental con- 
trol ; he, in effect, denies parental authority ; he 
can submit to it no longer; he can, and he must, do 
as he pleases. Without humility, and more as a 
matter of right than of favor, he asks for his share 
of the estate ; he demands his portion of the goods. 
Such are the first manifestations of sin. The 
young desire to be free; they ignore authority; 
they are wiser than their parents, and need no 
counsel. Advice is thrown away upon such. They 
claim it as their right to do as they please Avith 
their own. They feel little or no responsibility to 
God or man. 

2. Then comes the irrepressible desire of present 
enjoyment. He w^ants his portion of goods, that he 
may enjoy them. Passion clamors for gratification, 
reason is silenced, and conscience is hushed ; imag- 
ination paints scenes of licentious pleasure,' in 
which he hopes to revel w^ith exquisite delight. 
He must enjoy himself while young. He must go 
on the fast line. He must indulge every sense, and 
gratify every appetite. He must have his goods 
now, and enjoy them. Such are the natural feel- 
ings of youth, when unrestrained by Christian 



246 Our Young People. 

principle. The warm blood courses 'through young 
veins; the glowing passions, unsubdued by divine 
grace; the carnal appetites, unused to control — all 
render this period of life peculiarly dangerous. 
Passion is blind, and seeks for gratification, with- 
out regard to consequences. It is supremely selfish, 
and ignores the claims of God and man. It is 
impudent, incautious, and presumptuous. It knows 
no God but self, and it acknowledges no law but 
present gratification. It says, "Give me the goods 
that fall to me.'^ 

3. He went into a far country. He wished to go 
so far that he might escape both the vigilance and 
rebukes of his father. He w^anted to get out of 
sight and out of hearing. So every young man 
entering upon a downward career leaves his home. 
Its associations are no longer agreeable. Its pure 
atmosphere is no longer pleasant. The quiet mel- 
ody of a sister's voice, the gentle words of a loving 
mother, and the earnest prayers of a venerable 
father, now fall upon his heart with the force of 
terrible rebukes, and he finds home a most un- 
pleasant place to him. Then he tries to get as far 
as possible from religious influence. He neglects 
Church; he turns infidel; he laughs at religion; 
he attends the theater and the opera; he visits 



The pRomaAL Sok. 247 

dens of infamy ; he goes to all the haunts of fash- 
ionable amusement; he enters gambling-hells; he 
is found at the shrine of Bacchus in the elegant 
drinking-saloon ; he gets behind bars and bolts, 
and hopes that God does not see him, or he has not 
God in his thoughts. If he goes to Church at all, 
it is to hear some sensational sermon, or to listen to 
the discourse of sweet music. He has gone — -like 
the prodigal in the text — into a far country, away 
from his father's house and native home. ' 

4. He "wasted his substance in riotous living." 
Sin always wastes. It wastes time and energy, 
talents and substance, brain and muscle, God's 
blessings and man's opportunities. Sin is destruc- 
tive. It produces nothing but misery, and w^ant, 
and ruin. It wastes life in crime and folly, and it 
blasts all high hopes and all noble resolves. It 
paralyzes the conscience, blunts the moral sensibil- 
ities, pollutes the imagination, fires unholy passions, 
and wastes all the means of usefulness and happi- 
ness. 

5. "He began to be in want*" Waste always 
brings want. The hunger and rags of the prodigal 
will illustrate the hunger and rags of a soul that 
has w^andered from God. This w^ant of the soul 
nothing can satisfy but God himself. It is a want 



248 Our Young People. 

which may not press heavily upon the soul amid 
the joyous scenes of life; it may for the moment 
be lost sight of amid the blandishments of wealth 
and power ; but it is sure to be felt^ and deeply felt, 
when pleasure has lost its zest and povv^er its charm. 
When adversity comes, when sorrows flow over the 
soul like successive billows, when losses consume 
the earnings of years, when laurels fade on the 
brow, when music loses its charm, and wit and 
humor no more provoke laughter, and the soul 
begins to experience the inexpressible pangs of 
want, it writhes in anguish. It is wrung with 
agony. It turns in vain to the world, for the world 
has not stores enough to satisfy the wants of the 
immortal soul. It turns upon itself, and seeks in 
vain for satisfaction and comfort from its own great 
powers. No lines of thought, nor gushes of senti- 
ment, nor creations of imagination, nor strains of 
poetry, nor treasures of knowledge, can enrich a 
soul in want — can save a soul dying of hunger. 
The soul of the prodigal is in w^ant of lost oppor- 
tunities of neglected privileges, of wasted talents, 
of perverted powers, of blighted hopes and ruined 
prospects. They are gone! all gone! and gone 
forever! No human power can restore them; no 
bitter, burning tears of regret can ever bring them 



The Prodigal Son. 249 

back. The soul is its own place. Which way 
it turns is hell, when forsaken of God and lost to 
virtue. 

6. He joined himself to a citizen of that coun- 
try, who put him to feed swine. Departure from 
God involves servility and dishonor. It is alliance 
with Satan ; it is servility to appetite, and bondage 
to passion; its chains are forged for the inthrall- 
ment of an entire race ; it bows to Satan, and is in 
league wdth hell. Its God is wdthout honor, and 
its w^ages is death. It offers to feed the soul on 
husks, and degrades it to mingle with sw-ine. It 
reduces its victim to a state of moral frenzy, and 
envelops the spirit in the mists of moral death. 
Like the ignis -fatuns, it leads man on and on, 
farther and farther, until he sinks in impenetrable 
darkness, and cries. Lost! lost! His wail comes 
up like the wail of the lost mariner as he sinks 
beneath the W'aves that have swept aw^ay the last 
plank, and deprived him of his last hope. 

Let us turn now from the dreary picture, and 

behold 

THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN. 

1. " He came to himself." He realized that he was 
lost; he felt his want; he saw^ his inexcusable folly. 
The first step in our return to God is a rational 



250 Our Youkg People. 

step. There is nothing unreasonable in our holy 
religion. From the first sobs of repentance to the 
last shout of victory, all is in accordance with the 
highest reason. The Christian can always give 
a reason for the hope that is within him. Man 
is never fully himself till he turns to God ; then 
reason is enthroned, then passion yields its scepter, 
the will breaks from its thraldom, conscience be- 
comes God's umpire, and man rises in his freedom 
and in his strength to the lofty dignity of a son of 
God. 

2. "I will arise and go to my father." The poor 
prodigal makes a good resolution. Amid filth and 
rags, amid swine and disgrace, amid the utmost 
degradation, and at the very verge of death, he 
says, "I will arise." Such must be the resolve of 
every wanderer that hopes to return to God. He 
must determine. The conflict may be severe ; the 
trial may be great; habits may be inveterate — 
still he must conquer or die, he must resolve, or he 
must perish. Humanity afiTords no grander sight 
than is seen in the struggle for virtue, in the battle 
for right. Passion calls, appetite clamors, shame 
depresses, pride forbids, Satan tempts, the world 
laughs, cowardice impedes, sloth hinders, procrasti- 
nation postpones; but he says, "I will; yes, God 



The Prodigal Son-, 251 

being my helper, I will. It is the last hope of 
salvation — it is the last struggle for life, and I will 
arise and go.'^ 

3. He went. He went alone. The contrast was 
great between the departure and the return. He 
left clothed in purple and fine linen; he returned 
in rags. He departed with high hopes ; he returned 
almost in despair. Trained servants, in all proba- 
bility, attended his departure, and wild companions 
sought his entertainments; no friend, no servant, 
accompanies his sad return. But without encour- 
agement, and almost without hope, he returned to 
his father's house. You may imagine that he met 
with ma.ny trials on the way. It seemed so long, 
and his father's house was so distant. Weary and 
worn, he often sunk exhausted ; but the thought of 
home aroused him, and on he went, until at last he 
reached the old homestead. 

4. He says, " Father, I have sinned against heav- 
en, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be 
called thy son. Make me as one of thy hired serv- 
ants." Such must be the return, and such the con- 
fession, of every penitent sinner. " I am a wretch 
undone. Nothing in my hands I bring — simply to 
Thy cross I cling. I am not worthy to be a child of 
God. I am willing to be a servant, and feed from 



252 Our Young People, 

the crumbs that fall from the children's table." 
Such confession, such penitence, is sure to be met 
by forgiveness, and such a return by a welcome 
as warm as heart could wish, faith claim, or hope 
expect. 

5. The father gave a glorious reception to the 
returning prodigal. This reception is expressed 
with great beauty and force. The father sees his 
son ; he recognizes him, though in rags, and pinched 
with poverty, and wasted with hunger, and worn 
by long travel. Then he has compassion. His 
soul yearns ; his heart relents ; his old love returns ; 
his feelings gush out in great streams. He runs — 
yes, the old man runs — to meet his boy. Old eyes 
are dim, but his were quick to see his son; old 
limbs are stiff, but his were nimble to meet his son ; 
old feet are slow, but his ran with the speed of 
youth, that he might quickly embrace his son that 
was lost. Then he fell on his neck, and kissed him. 
At this moment he forgot the profligacy, and the 
rags, and the ruin, of his son. All other feelings 
were lost in love and joy. "I have found him 
that was lost, and the dead is restored to life. Put 
on him the best robe. Put shoes on his feet, and 
a ring on his finger. Prepare a banquet. Call in 
the neighbors, and let us have rejoicing together." 



The Peodigal Sox. 253 

Such was the reception of the prodigal, and such 
is sure to be the reception of the returning sinner. 
Our Heavenly Father meets him, and gives him the 
kiss of love, the embrace of warm affection. He 
presses every penitent to his heart, places his own 
great seal upon his brow, clothes him in beauty, 
and calls upon all the angels to rejoice with great 
and exceeding joy over him that was lost, and is 
found — over him that was dead, and. is alive again. 
I have said in the beginning of this discussion 
that this parable is both a warning and an invita- 
tion. In applying it to the great truths, I would 
try to warn you against the ruinous effects of sin. 
I would make this application of the parable es- 
pecially for the benefit of young men. To the 
young men of my country I have been accustomed 
to look with mingled hope and fear. If they refuse 
the counsels of wisdom, and reject the authority of 
God, they bring ruin upon themselves and a country 
the grandest God ever gave a Christian people. I 
warn you, then, young men, by the prodigal's career, 
against the seductive influences of sin. Guard 
your associations ; follow not a multitude to do evil ; 
seek not the society of the profligate ; shun as you 
would the serpent's breath the influence of the 
strange woman ; go not in the way of licentious- 



254 Our Young People, 

ness; let not lascivious pictures, obscene songs, per- 
nicious novels, nor the winning smiles of the false 
and fair, lead you from the home of virtue, from 
the claims of domestic life, from the altar of prayer, 
or the Church of God. Avoid infidelity, and turn 
away from all that blasphemes the name of God ; 
avoid the social glass, and never enter a drinking- 
saloon. Remember that drunkenness is somewhere 
between the first sip and death. No man expects 
to become a drunkard when he takes the first glass, 
and few are able to overcome the love of strong 
drink when the habit has become inveterate. I 
warn you against the formation of a habit which 
numbers its victims by the thousands and the mill- 
ions. Avoid gambling. Buy no lottery - tickets. 
Do not indulge the idea of getting something for 
nothing. Never play at cards, even for amusement. 
Risk nothing on the throw of a die, or the turn of 
a wheel. Be men. Rise up to the strength of a 
noble manhood, and break the withes which are 
already prepared for your free limbs. Be strong. 
Resist evil. Utter with loud emphasis a firm neg- 
ative to every temptation to wrong. Dare to say 
No ! Seek the companionship of the wise and good. 
Attend the house of God. Come to Church : we 
will always give you a cordial welcome to the altars 



The Prodigal Son. 255 

of piety and the hearts of love. Come, join us in 
penitence and in prayer. Surrender to truth,. and 
virtue, and God. Be Christian men. Cultivate 
piety. Be faithful to duty. Live for eternity. If 
you have wandered, return, and quickly. Stay not 
an hour. Time is flying; eternity is approaching; 
angels are waiting. God invites you ; he stands 
ready to receive you ; and I charge you, as I stand 
under his burning eye, heed my warning, listen to 
my invitation, and come to your loving Father's 
arms. I warn you, by the far-reaching and ruinous 
consequences attending a career of dissipation, of 
folly, and of crime, turn away from the path which 
as certainly leads to ruin as God is just, experience 
uniform, and truth immutable. I invite you, by all 
that is noble, and pure, and good ; by the compas- 
sion of God, the interest of angels, the suflerings 
and death of Jesus, and the happiness of heaven, 
come to Christ, and agree to be saved on terms as 
easy as they are wise, just, and merciful. 



THE END. 



